


The Fisherman

by QueenPotatos



Series: A Message in a Bottle [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Fairy Tales, Gen, Long story in 5 parts, M/M, Original Story - Freeform, Original au, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-12 08:20:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2102340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenPotatos/pseuds/QueenPotatos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day Madara found a message in a bottle on the Uzuship Island. It's a five year old love and farewell letter, written by some Hashirama Senju for his fiancée - Uzumaki Mito. Together with the young lady both travelled through the Ocean to the Lands, to save the woman's fiancé from the prison he is being kept in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Fisherman - Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> First part of a very long story. The first one is in Madara POV, and is 4 chapters. I alredy post it here at some point but I made some changes - quite important ones - so I needed to post it again.  
> Please note that this part is not about romance, but it will come, fatally, and there will be some gay porn at some point. (I let you guess who it will concern on your own)
> 
> I got this idea reading a toilet book, btw.

 

**The Fisherman - Part One**

**.**

**.**

 

 

It has always been there, long before man or even plants invaded the Lands. The waves, the foam, the Ocean. Nearly half of the Earth was covered with water but still, most of the  population living on the Lands took this natural resource for granted, using it and wasting it as if it were inexhaustible, when it was actually the most precious thing they could have asked for. Men were corrupted. They only longed for fights, for starting wars to prove who's the strongest, to gain more resources and power. The only thing that could probably compare to their greed would be the depth of the blue Ocean they used to fight on. In this world of violence ruled by the survival of the fittest, an unexpected miracle had occurred, at last. War was over. The Lands were at peace again, after fifty years of incessant and deadly conflicts.

On the other hand, far away from the devastation were a couple of tribes that had settled in an archipelago near the frontier of the Fire lands. Surrounded by the vast ocean that separated them from any other kind of civilization, they were living in total self-sufficiency, worshiping the Goddess of the oceans' floors. Most of them were fishermen, priests or farmers; and then, there was a clan of warriors living in the very corner of the tiniest Island – the Uchiha clan.

But now that the war was over, there were nothing left for them. Little by little, families started to move from the isolated island to the Lands, hoping for a better future, and maybe a new conflict, to satisfy their passion for fighting and to provide their children with something to eat. By the end of summer, only one was left behind.

“Are you really sure about this?” asked the leader of the clan, who was also the father of the young man.

He simply nodded, and silently watched as both of his parents' feet left the sand as they loaded on their family boat. The weather had been mild during the whole week, and the wind was blowing in the right direction. They would reach Konoha in a matter of days – a week at the most.

The separation was heart-breaking, but Madara couldn't follow them. There was still something here on this very island that kept him prisoner.

It was not as if he was really alone, though. His hawk Kira was still there, wasn't she? Flying over the ocean, landing gracefully on his bare shoulders. And the wind was keeping him company too, bringing him the salty scent of the ocean, messing with his untamed long dark hair and singing in h is ears a soothing melody – and after what he had witnessed; it was the only thing that could calm his nerves.

He had thought about leaving the Islands with them, every single night during his lonely walks, as the moon watched him from her seat among the  stars, the wet sand accompanying his every single of his steps on the withdrawing waves. In his heart he had felt unsure of what to do, what to decide, as if for him the right solution had never existed. But eventually, he had made up his mind. The Ocean was his only home. He was born into the water, and would die by the water. There was no other rules that could dictated his way of living. Leaving the Islands to settle into the Lands, after everything they had done to them, was a aberration. For the Uchiha clan, family had always been what they cherish the most; but since his brother's death Madara was different. If going with them meant leaving his boat and living with his formal deadly enemies then he couldn't follow, and as soon as his decision had been  made he hadn't regretted it once. He would probably miss the laughing-gulls cries and the water's lapping against the cliff he lived on more than other human beings anyway.

So that's where his conclusion drove him to. A little hut made of dark wood, close to the beach and to the pier, and next to it was his boat, always ready to raise its anchor. Of course it was too small to be supplied with one – having only been built for two originally – but it was enough to catch some fish to eat, or to lose himself in the middle of nowhere as he sailed randomly on the agitated water. It was what he truly enjoyed the most: to lie down on his boat and to feel the oscillation, the strong rocking that made most people sick. Strangely it never had this effect on him – on the contrary, he found it rather thrilling.

Madara all of the people knew how terrible and cruel the water could be. It was stronger than any man or weapon mankind could create. Just knowing that he was there, in the middle of its personal space and resisting against it, provoking it and not giving in, gave him all the adrenaline he missed after the end of the war. A man born a warrior dies a warrior. He needed a new goal, to engage a new battle to feed his fighter's soul. It didn't take him long to find a new opponent – it had been during a storm, he had watched the sky, torn by the lightning and the dangerous water, the five meter waves taking the life of some of his clansmen, taking away their boats as if they were mere sandcastles. From that very moment he had decided he wouldn't be at peace until he had learned how to master it. From then on being the sole master of the Ocean had been his new goal, and it was the only thing in the world that had made him felt alive.

Days, weeks passed. Nothing had changed, really, except for the lack of agitation when he came back home and had dinner alone inside his little hut. During the day he was fishing, sailing around the island he knew like the back on his hand. Sometimes he would leave a day or two, or even more, and allowed  the wind to decided where his journey would end. It didn't go without unpleasant wake-ups and dangerous situations but Madara didn't care. Weathering a storm or fixing a hole in the wood shell in the middle of nowhere didn't frighten him any more.

The Ocean has found his new Master. He wasn't afraid of the dreadful water. He knew it by heart. Madara could tell if the ocean was happy or sad, mad or calm, just by listening to the sound of the small waves against the rocks or their movements as they reached  the beach. The colors of the sky taught him if a storm was coming within a week or not. He learned after many incidents that being alone made it necessary for him to be utterly prepared and confident. Needless to say, it had never been a problem for him.  He had always felt ready.

On the first day of autumn, Madara was peacefully taking a nap on his boat when a sudden squall took him away from his current spot. The tranquil fisherman barely felt his old ship pitch and quickly it started to move haphazardly, but he didn't mind. He stayed still, enjoying the feel of the cold swirling wind on his skin and let the water guided him toward his new destination.

As long as he was on his boat, he could live anywhere and land anywhere.

The whole world felt like home.

And, as if it knew who he was and what he stood for, the water guided him to the island just next to his, gently rocking the beautiful dark-haired man while he slept until he reached a deserted beach covered in white sand.

.

He woke up a couple of  hours later. Something felt odd.

The fisherman knew exactly where he was – it was the island of Uzushio, the one of the priests, he had gone there often when he was a kid and it smelled just like in his old memories – and even without opening his eyes he could have sworn there was something out of place. Somehow, the ocean's daily melody was dissonant and it was something that could not be happening, not in Madara's world.

He sat up immediately and looked around. He had been right: he was truly on the sanctuary beach of Uzushio Island. He had ended up half way through the beach, in the middle of this beautiful stretch made of white colored sand; he could smell the fine scent of pines, coming from behind the dune and the rocky path that separated him from the nearest forest. Surprisingly the Ocean had calmed down, it seemed; there were only mere undulation at its surface, contrasting drastically with the huge distance his boat had covered during his not so short nap. On his right he could see the old religious building – the people of this island called it the Sanctuary - almost falling apart a mile away but still standing, its solemn aura spreading through the scenery and making the sight looked even more like the one of a dream. The place was deserted, not like the last time he had set his foot here and Madara then realized it might be getting late. The sky was starting to get deep blue while on the other side on the island there were still some clouds, shaded with pink and orange pastel colors, that only dawn or twilight could give them.

A rather strong wave made the fragile craft shuddered and the boat almost detached itself from the wet sand. Madara quickly got out on the beach and grasped the wood frame to hold it back and then, pulled it completely on the sand. It wasn't very heavy; he'd have no trouble pushing it into the water again when he'd have to leave.

But it didn't explain why the ocean wasn't feeling like usual.

_ *cling* _

It was subtle. A very slight and gentle clinking, but as low as that  sound might have been it wasn't supposed to exist in the first place. It was where the dissonance came from.

There was something on the water that didn't belong to it.

_ *cling* _

A flash of orange light alerted him. As the sun was ending its course some of its rays reflected on the intruder, and Madara thought then that it might be made of glass. He usually wouldn't care that much about such insignificant details, but how dare it trouble the water's serenity? And so he just walked, took off his shoes and so aked his feet.

_ *thong* _

The glass bottle had reached his legs at last. It looked just like the ones Kakuzu used at his tavern – and Madara smirked for no reason, maybe he should drop by sometimes soon, it had been a rather long time since he last visited him. It was large and nearly transparent, identical to the bartender's favorite Rhum bottles. Too bad the smell was gone during the trip.

What a surprise. The bottle wasn't empty. There was a piece of paper trapped inside. How original, a message in a bottle in the middle of an island chain.

Madara would have gladly smirked again if he hadn't caught the four big letters written in black ink – there were so big anybody could have seen them even through the thickness of the glass.

“'For M.'?”

He frowned. He hadn't even realized he had read it aloud and he turned around, glad to see that he was still very alone on the beautiful beach.

For a moment Madara thought about opening it; he owed some money to Kakuzu from his last visit but, would the innkeeper go that far to send his bills? Truth be told, he was a bit creepy and very strict about anything concerning money – he had almost killed a man because he'd left with a coaster in his bag, what kind of innkeeper would go that far? – however it wasn't how you treat a friend.

Well, they weren't exactly what common people would call friends, were they? Who could ever be friends with them anyway.

At last his curiosity got the best of him – or maybe his pride was a bit shaken, he didn't like to be addressed that way – and ith a loud and wet ' _pop_ ', he removed the watery cork.

_ Ew _ ! He had never expected it to smell of roses but whatever Kakuzu had previously put inside this bottle, it stank so much that  Madara had to drop his find on the sand. The piece of paper slipped out of its formal prison in its fall and with a little help from the now cool wind, the paper uncoiled, revealing all of its secrets.

The handwriting was definitely not Kakuzu's – the man was really good with math, but his writing was an entire other story. It  was delicate, neat, but at the same time hasty. Whatever it was the author of this letter had wanted to transcribe, he did it in a hurry and without any form of hesitation and still, he managed to write as if he was comfortably sat behind his desk.

He couldn't explain why he had read this mysterious letter through the end. He wasn't a curious person, he didn't want to be involved in others business when it didn't concern him directly; and now that he knew the letter wasn't addressed to him, and afterward, he knew deep down it had never been the case, he wondered what had motivated him in the end – and there was no way his pride could save him this time.

It was an awfully well-written letter. A love letter, more precisely. Written almost five years ago, by  a man called HashiramaSenju – the man had the presence of mind to put down his name and the day he wrote the letter before throwing it desperately into the ocean.

It took him some time to realize it, but Madara had read the letter more than once. Everything was perfect about it: the pacing, the choice of the words, the intensity…He didn't want to admit it but those words had moved something inside him, in his guts, and for a moment he wished someone could send him something similar one day – but this feeling only last a few seconds, or even less. Madara was a lonely man by choice; he didn't need anybody to care for him. He was the human definition of self-sufficiency.

He sat down against a dune, high enough for him to rest his back fully onto it. He faced  the horizon; the sun was nowhere to be seen. It would take him half a day to go back to his little island with the absence of wind going in the right direction and he couldn't allow himself to sail with absolutely no light since the moon was dark this night, meaning he'd probably had to stay here till dawn. Madara looked at the old piece of paper more than reading it, not really paying much attention to the words, as if something was internally bothering him. When there was not enough light left for him to  distinguish the forms of the beautiful handwritten letter, Madara suddenly remembered.

Hashirama  _S_ _enju_. The name was unpleasantly familiar to him. If  Madara closed his eyes, he could see it, imagine it; the fight at night, the naval battles fought against this bloody clan, the dead, the blood, the smell of corpses and of steel against his flesh, of canons' powder shouting just next to his ears.

And then in the middle of his tumultuous memories which were rushing through his mind all at once, he made a very tiny connection with the island he had become strangled on. The Senju clan belonged to the Lands and thus, belonged to war. They had played a large part in modern conflicts and, very recently, had finally accepted to settle around a table to talk and find an arrangement. To everyone's greatest surprise, the meeting had been a success. A real miracle. The Senjus had bent.

Long time ago, he had heard a rumor concerning a marriage between the Senju and the people of Uzushio. The ceremony had been canceled  at the last minute – he remembered quite precisely this particular moment; not only had Madara been gifted with a very good visual memory but on top of that, the event had occurred exactly a week after their ship had sunk deep into the blue ocean.

He shud dered as the image of that night came into his mind.

The temperature dropped drastically as the sun started to disappear. Madara looked at the sanctuary from the corner of his eyes. Spending the night in a warm and welcoming place didn't seem like a bad i dea at all. He propped his boat using two big stones he found a little further behind the beach and then headed to the old building, the letter still in his grasp.

From where he had woken up the place looked as if it were falling apart, but now that he had the chance to cast a closer look, the sanctuary was actually very well preserved. It was still austere and gloomy, but he couldn't find a single crack or breach as he stood behind the door. Madara knocked, and waited for someone to open for him. He knew  there was always a priest in the hall, well; there had always been one back in the days when he came here with his brother. He secretly wondered if the place had changed as much as he had over the years.

It was the same old woman, the one with her gray hair and her very tiny eyes hidden behind a blue veil – they always thought she was blind because of that – who opened him the door. She was small and hunchbacked, which wasn't making things any better, and her fragile hands pushed the door till it hit the wall behind it. She stepped outside just in front of him and,  oddly in Madara's opinion, looked behind him, as if she were expecting to see someone else.

But no one was missing this time. He had come alone.

"It's been a long time. Five years I guess. What brings you here at this hour of the day, Madara-chan?" the old woman asked him as she withdrew inside the sanctuary, giving him the opportunity to follow her inside.

"The wind, I guess." he vaguely answered. He had never been the one to talk.

Inside, the air felt cold and heavy, contrasting with the weather inside. The Sanctuary had always felt like a place out of time, never influence by the world outside. The hall he had just walked in was just a long corridor, paved with dark blue regular stones, filled with high pillars and stained glass on its wall. There were frozen statues of a woman holding a jar regularly inserted between the pillar, and a large fountain at the end of the hall. Water was slowly, endlessly pouring from the top vase on the fountain and falling in the lower bowl. Nothing had really changed. The memories still hurt. Madara didn't see anybody when they walked further into the place, passing the hall to enter the main room. They walked through cold and empty corridors, and soon they stopped in front of a small door, in the guests wing of the religious building.

"You can stay as long as you want. You'll still need the approval of the high Priest of course but, since he had known you for so many years I guess it shouldn 't be a problem." The granny reached the round door-handle and laid him to his room. It had a bed and cupboard, a mirror fixed on the wall and a painted representation of the Goddess of the Ocean on top of the bed. It was rather austere, but nothing muc h different from Madara's usual room.

"I'll come back later to give you a lantern. By the way, do you feel hungry? I bet you spent your day on your boat again, no minding to eat properly." That damned old woman's wisdom, she was right on that point. "Didn't I tell you the story of my first husband who died of scurvy in the middle of the ocean?"

"Yes you did. Twice."

"We can pray all day long for the Ocean to have mercy upon our men and our ships, it doesn't matter if you end up dying of malnutrition. Don't make us waste our time, stubborn sailors, and eat what granny gives you."

She closed the door and by the time she came back in, the sky was entirely dark. Madara was looking at the stars through the barred window when she opened the door with a lantern and a good meal.

"Thank you Oba-chan. Can I ask you a favor?" he asked her as she settled the trail on the floor.

"Anything you want."

"I'd like to have a talk with  Uzumaki -san, as soon as possible. Is he still living here?" 

 

The people of Uzushio were leaded by the Uzumaki clan. He had never heard the whole story but if a marriage had been decided between the Senju and the men of this Island, then the head of the Uzumaki clan's leader was the best person to ask for further information.

Not that Madara cared, really. He wasn't curious. He just wanted to get rid of that letter, of that burden, of all that  _love_  that weighted the thin piece of paper ridiculously. Since it had found its place into his pocket Madara had had trouble to breath normally. It was as if the air in his lungs refused to get out properly, and the one he tried to get inside was hotter, mixed with sand and heavy feelings. He couldn't handle it.

Madara had never been much of a reader, but he knew words could be as powerful as an eight meter wave and turn your mind upside down. And the Senju's words were still spinning around his head, their meanings almost finding their way under his skin. It was unquestionably powerful, and talking about someone with so much passion. Madara just thought about  the situation for a moment, and of what the two lost lovers must have felt. There was apparently a  _'mesmerizing_ ' and  _'enchanting'_  woman out of there that had been waiting for five long years –maybe?– for her future husband to come back to her. She had t e right to know what was on that letter. Because even Madara could tell the man was helplessly in love. So much it was breathtaking – and somehow it was a very accurate description, because Madara had indeed hold his breath till the end of the letter's reading.

"Of course he is. His daughter is in charge of the novices. You probably can't remember her, after all Izuna was the one who spent most of his time in the sanctuary. I'll tell him you're here."

It took him some time to reply. "Thank you, Oba-chan."

"After all this time Madara-chan, you don't need to thank me."

She let him eat in silence and, an hour later he was sitting in front of Uzumaki-san on a very comfortable blue-velvet cushion. He wasn't the one holding the letter anymore and he  curiously felt so much… lighter. He gazed blankly in front of him – avoiding the ' _For M_ ' inscription he could read if he was focusing – as the Uzumaki's head went through the text. As he examined him in details, Madara thought the weight of time had no a real influence on the people living here - first the old granny, who was miraculously still alive considering her advanced age and then, Uzumaki-san, who must be at least twice his age and he could not see a single new wrinkle on his face. It was weird for him to still live here, after the death of his wife. She had been the one in charge, years ago, and he always thought that when she had gone he'd returned to his home, and resumed to lead the clan and the people of the Island from the town. Maybe the memories were too important for him to leave...Madara could only understand that kind of behavior, after all.

Judging by the older man's dumbfounded expression, he already knew who it came from before reaching the end. Madara's intuition had been right - again, he was never wrong - the Senju had indeed been involved with the Island. Uzumaki-san closed his eyes, putting the letter down and sighed imperceptibly, something only Madara's trained ears seemed to notice. He called one of his servants, whispered something into her ear, and then the woman rose and got out of the room. His looks was severe, confused. Just like if he'd just seen a ghost.

“We thought he had been reduced to silence by his own family,” he said, with his deep and concerned voice. Madara's firs t impression had been right; he had seen a ghost, indeed. The man in front of him frowned slightly, and the fisherman figured he was rather the introvert type. He never got the chance to talk to him. He was so young when he used to visit the island regularly; he never got the opportunity to have a real talk before he hit adulthood.

“He wrote the letter five years ago; he might as well be already dead. If it's what really bothers you...”

“Ah, Madara, you have always been the clever one. Being able to read people's thoughts so well at such a young age...I guess you haven't changed at all.”

Madara felt offended. He was feeling so much better as an adult rather than as a child.

"But after reading this letter and in the lights of recent events, I am more than positive about Hashirama's survival."

Madara frowned, and opened his mouth until both men were snapped back to the present by a woman's muffled cry coming from the corridor next to the meeting room – the same corridor where the servant had disappeared minutes ago. Then came a soft _'bang'_. Someone had fainted, it seemed.

"I'm sorry Madara," he said as he suddenly jumped on his feet. "I need to take care of this. We will never thank you enough for bringing this good news to us. Please, stay with us tomorrow, we'll treat you to lunch."

He excused himself and let the last Uchiha of the Islands return to his ephemeral room.

He slowly went back to his trail, took the piece of bread that had stayed untouched and split up some crumbs, placing them behind the barred window. Kira must be looking for him, and she'd be hungry after such a long trip.

All of this was confusing.

The Uzumaki head's behavior was more than questionable. He knew things Madara didn't and it pissed him off a bit. He wasn't a child, as much as the older man wanted to treat him like one, he could easily understand political matters. He just didn't care most of the time. Nature wasn't something that could be ruled by politics, nor by men. He was the only one who could dictate the water.

He was also pretty sure the lady who fainted earlier was the 'M'  Hashirama  was referring to. If he remembered correctly too, Uzumaki -san daughter's name was Mito; from then the link between the letter and the faint wasn't that hard to make. He would have liked to witness the woman's beauty before leaving this place, but now that everything was settled he couldn't find any other reason to stay. The confined air on the Sanctuary was making him uneasy, he missed the feeling of freedom he had when he was sailing . He needed to get away from here, before being more entailed into that soap Opera; before his feet could get stuck into solid ground.

And thus, he decided he would be gone before dawn.

.

It was a never ending lullaby: the continuous motion of the waves against the cliff, water against rock, two of the four essential elements that composed the Earth. Men were fools. Some were even proclaiming absurdities, having stupid thoughts about how things could never last. But the Ocean was eternal. It would slowly erode the Lands and turn everything into sand.

There were things that remained unchanged after the years, and Madara liked to keep them that way. Like Kira's beak hitting the bar to wake him up.

He jumped on his feet, put his hand randomly into his hair – a fake attempt to fix them – and headed directly toward the exit. He hadn't taken his clothes off to sleep, and always woke up perfectly aware. This was one of his qualities that he was proud of and one that had served him the most – you'd never know  when a storm would strike again.

The sun wasn't up yet. But its absence didn't prevent someone from waking up before him and standing in front of his door, knocking quietly and totally taking him by surprise. Everything from the woman behind the door was red. Her traditional  yukata , her hair, her eyes…she had probably cried all night.

"Please. Don't go yet. Follow me."

She turned her back, not waiting for any kind of answers coming from him and Madara followed. As for why, he was totally clueless; maybe some mystical force was dragging him into this woman's steps, but he wasn't the one who believed in such things.

 

He had to admit, that _'_ _Hashirama ' _  was right. Mito Uzumaki was indeed a very beautiful woman. A splendid lady. She still had her ginger freckles and her deep, blue eyes; Madara had a very good visual memory and even if he had only met her once or twice when they were still children, Mito was so unique that one single glimpse at her was enough for her silhouette to haunt your dreams for the rest of  your life.  

After going through the main room and taking the opposite wind of the Sanctuary, they stopped in front of what seemed to be her room. She hadn't talked to him during the whole time, something that didn't really bother him – and actually he was grateful of that. She asked him to wait for her and tiptoed to the door, opening it very carefully, too carefully, and then Madara realized it wasn't  _her _ room.

There was a man snoring inside.

She came back all too hasty with a bag in her hand and clothes on the other.

"Thank you." She murmured when the door was safely closed to the rest of the world. Madara could only frowned at her inappropriate thanks. "For waiting. You could have left without a word but you stayed." Her voice was low and gentle, a  mere whisper but he could still hear the relief within. She was talking like the Ocean, and the feeling was soothing him unconsciously.

Madara  found himself sitting on the blue-velvet cushion again. They were back in the meeting room and Mito was reading old letters, from Hashirama he easily guessed, and she kept going even if he wasn't paying any attention. When the tears from her eyes trickled down her face to the curve of her lips, she licked them, and creased the paper under her hands. Mito was obviouly in pain. He really wanted to leave.

"He is such a good man." She said in between soft sobs. She was visibly heart-broken but, as an Uzumaki lady she probably believed that keeping her dignity in front of a stranger was more important than showing her real feelings. "I always knew that one day war would take him away from me. He was a man of Peace, you know. As the heir of the Senju clan, a clan that only lives and yearns for battles, he was against war and so he decided to fight them. To fight his father, his brother, his own family. He wanted to change mentalities…to make them think differently." She took a deep breath and rearranged her braids; then slowly put the letters that rest on her lap inside her bag. "That's why I also knew he would come back. I could never thank you enough for bringing me this."

"It's just a stupid old letter. A simple piece of paper. And a stinky one, on top of that. You don't have any proof about him being alive."

"I saw him."

"Then you shall stop daydreaming, stop pretending you're still a rosebud.”

“I can  _see _ things,” she replied stubbornly, her voice raising with slight frustration.

“I also have great foresight but it doesn't grant me the power to decide who's dead and who's not. As much as you want him to-”

“The night Izuna died, you were engaged in a battle." She cut him out brutally. "A naval combat more precisely. You only had one ship against five, but your enemies were novice, and there was a storm coming. You won that battle, but the mast of their ship broke into two and fell on your own boat. Izuna disappeared into the Ocean and no one saw him again. Without hesitation you jumped in a desperate attempt to find him but-”

She couldn't finish her story. Madara had jumped, it was indeed true, but he landed directly on Mito's throat, pushing her hard against the wood floor. She couldn't breathe anymore.

“You. Have. No. Right.” he muttered harshly under his breath, threatening her, his eyes furious, and then released his grip from around her neck. There was a red mark that took a few more minutes to disappear.

“You don't know anything about him.”

“I know more about him than you think. But the point is, I can see things.” she emphasized strongly. “I am a priestess. The Ocean is giving me visions.”

“Bullshit.” He slammed the door as he left her, furious, not buying anything she was trying to preach. He was sitting on his bed again before he had the time to think about what had really happened. His brother had always been a sensible matter to him, and that was exactly  why he had avoided this particular part of the islands. Because Izuna had spent a lot of time here with the priests. Because he was a very special child, with an absurd passion for the Ocean's depth – he even remembered a time when he used to  _talk _ to shells and fishes. Izuna was his special someone, and now he was gone, and everything here kept on reminding him that he was no more here and it was unbearable.

The old trail was gone, replaced by a small breakfast. The old granny had recalled his old habits  it seemed – or had Izuna talked about him that much? - and so there was only one piece of bread for Kira and a cup of green tea. And an orange – to prevent scurvy, he guessed. Something on his cheek tickled him and he found himself smiling at the kind gesture. It felt nice and warm, to have someone who actually cared.

He found no one in the hall - she wasn't there unfortunately. He would have to come back here again, to thank her and the thought didn't bother him as much as he wished it would.

His boat  was still there, just as he had left him yesterday; nothing out of the ordinary so far. Kira flew from the frame to his arm to rest her wings, as usual. What was really strange and felt out of place was the woman's silhouette sitting on his belongings. Kira pinched the top of his ear. He didn't want to get involved. He didn't care about this woman, about this Island, about people, about love letters; he only longed for the wild of the Ocean and the feeling of freedom it procured him.

She had fixed her hair with two high buns and now wore a pair of large and comfortable trousers.  Madara  recognized them : it was part of the clothes she had picked from the bedroom. There was also a dark-green shawl around her shoulder, hiding her neck and the red mark that was still printed where he had strangled her. He was glad it was concealed under the piece of clothing. He wasn't very proud of it.

“Please, take me there.” Her voice was not pleading, but Madara had the bad feeling that she wasn't going to take 'no' for an  answer.

“There?” He passed by Mito, ignoring her in the process, and took the small rocks off the sand, dropping them back at their previous place behind the beach.

“Where Hashirama is.” she answered as if it was obvious, but to Madara it didn't make any sense. The man was probably already dead. He didn't even make the effort to reply and started pushing the boat on the sea.

She followed him. “He is still being kept as a prisoner. He is...chained, on his left wrist, and he is sitting on...” She closed her eyes and frowned, as if she was trying to remember some small details – or to invent some, he didn't want to know – and then softly snapped her fingers. “Straw. It was definitely straw. And there are birds flying around his prison. But I don't know what  kind. It isn't a gull that I'm pretty sure of...hey! Wait!”

Madara was already walking in the water, pushing his boat and was on the verve of jumping inside. Alone.

“Please! We have to rescue him!”

“From what? Straw and birds?” Madara had now his two feet on the wooden frame, walking around to clean up the place a bit. There were sand all over and he hated it when his boat wasn't tidy.

“Aren't you listening to me?”

It was pretty much obvious, but  Madara  didn't want to interrupt her, that would be too much of an effort. “He is chained! In a...a tall tower made of gray stones.”

His eyebrow twitched at the descripstion. “Then Milady, you're looking for the wrong boat. Your man is probably imprisoned in the Kage Tower, which as you might have heard is a very well-known place, on the Lands. I don't sail there. Never.”

“So you do agree with me?” Mito asked, a slight hint of cheekiness in her voice. “About Hashirama being alive?”

“If it'll shut that mouth of yours then yes, I do.”

Her smile quickly disappeared from her face but she stubbornly kept trying to reach him, and without any kind of second thoughts she soaked her clothes and waded though the Ocean. It wasn't until the water was up to her waist that she was able to touch the boat with her hand. The water was icy. The sun wasn't even up yet. That woman was just crazy.

“Please!" she shouted, too loud for Madara's taste. "Take me to him! I need to save him! He will probably die if he is returned to his family!”

There it was, again. The mystery  of the Senju clan's behavior towards its heir. Madara stopped whatever he was doing to distract himself from Mito's noisy presence and bent to her level, his nose almost touching hers.

“Why?” 

 

Family was the most precious thing in the world for the Uchiha clan. He couldn't even begin to understand how it was possible for a father to want the death of its own progeny.

“I will gladly tell you once you let me climb on your boat. I'm freezing!” she said after a small pause, when she got no reaction from him. Her teeth were chattering. “Have you ever heard of the word 'etiquette'?”

“It's one of the advantages of living alone. You do not need 'etiquette'. Except when a hysterical psychic forces herself on my boat.” He stretched his hand toward her and helped the half soaked lady to reach solid floor. She landed clumsily, nearly stepping on Madara's foot. Still holding her hand, the fisherman helped her stand. Or at least, he tried to. She was staggering.

“Wow...it's...pretty unstable.”

“Have you ever sailed?”

“...Yes I have.” she answered with a hesitant voice. “I live on an Island. Of course I have already been on a boat.” And then she smiled, warily. This was going to be a long day...

He turned her back, and tried to arrange some place for her to sit between his tools and belongings. “Do you have any change?”

The novice sailor looked at him with such a dumbfounded look that it made him rolled his eyes up to the sky. He pointed at her clothes.

“Oh...hem...I didn't think I will need one. Is the trip going to  be long?”

“A few days. At least for you. I'm not taking you to the Lands.”

Her eyes widened with unpleasant surprise. “Where are you taking me then?”

He retained the urge to push her back to the cold water but, 'etiquette' taught him otherwise. The old granny wouldn't have liked it anyway.

“There is a small harbor, a day from here. You'll find boat for the Lands here. I'm not taking you further than that. You do have money, don't you? In your bag.” He eyed the sanded colored shoulder back she was holding, her hands grasping on the strap.

“Yes. Everything I had left. I have some food too. Biscuits and oranges. And water, of course. They said it's unhealthy to drink the salty water of the Ocean.” She made herself comfortable at the back of the six meter fishing boat, between nets and the small harpoon. Madara didn't bother to look at her and took on of the paddle.

“It's not unhealthy. It's deadly. You should shut your mouth if you know nothing about sailing, your stupidity irritates me. Is that too heavy for a lady?” he asked, handing her the second paddle. “Until the wind rises we'll need those to navigate.”

Mito took the paddle. Her hands were so small she had to hold it with her both hands when Madara only needed one to circle the handle. After weighing it for a few seconds, she nodded positively. The two of them started to paddle slowly, Madara matching with his host's slow pacing, and as they drew away from the Uzushio Island Mito turned around, maybe to take a last look at her homeland before the exhausting trip she'd have to make to get her Hashirama back.

“They aren't going to disappear.” he said, seeing the dismay on her face. “The islands will still be here when you come back.”

“I know.” She whispered, mostly to herself, but Madara's ears caught this anyway. He didn't really know if he was supposed to and, chose to act as if he weren't.

Behind the island the horizon started to be filled with brightly colors: yellow, orange, pink and purple. There were no clouds, no fog, but Madara's eyes widened when just behind the steeple the sun reared his head.

It was red.

“This is such a beautiful scenery...” said Mito, completely stunned by such beauty. “Look at the reflection on the water. It looks like the Ocean is on fire. I wonder what it feels like,  to swim in an ocean of flames...”

“If you want to know so much you might as well jump and leave me alone. I have important things to do.”

“No you don't.” She answered quickly, in an unwanted provocative tone. "You wouldn't be there if you really had something important to do.”

She resumed to paddling, leaving him speechless. He searched for a destabilizing reply only to find he had none, and finally decide to ignore her remark. They soon found out the pitching boat was enough to shut her mouth, at least  for now.

She threw up twice before admitting defeat.

“Okay, maybe I lied. I don't sail. I hate boats. I have awful seasickness.”

“Maybe ?”

She simply glared at him before throwing up for the third time that morning. Later that day when he asked her if she was astonishingly foolish or if she just had an incredible pair of balls, she glared again.   



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I can explain

 

 

\- II -

 

The wind finally started to blow in the right direction about a hour after they left the Island, Madara hoisted the sail, the paddle were forgotten at their feet - his boat wasn't that spacious, it was quite uncomfortable to be honest.  

  

“Where are we going again?” a feminine voice asked him, and the fact that there was another human being actually talking to him made him jumped in surprise.  

  

He'd almost forgotten about his unwanted guest, occupying the stern of his humble embarkation. Madara had made everything in his mental power to ignore her presence, her timid and forced smiles as she looked at him, trying to ease his annoyance – unsuccessfully – but Mito Uzumaki was indeed sailing with him, and that was a fact he had to accept if he wanted to reach their destination on time. Being two on the boat wouldn't make things more difficult; on the contrary the boat had been made for two originally but Madara was used to be the sole and only resident of his ship. He resumed to tidying up his boat while answering her, not really minding a bit of conversation as long as it was short and polite.  

  

“Akatsuki Island.” He said calmly, and he didn't expect anything from her but the cry she made just after hearing the name.  

  

“What!?”  

  

Her high pinched voice nearly succeeded in making the laughing-gulls cries sound melodious. The Uzumaki lady wasn't just some ignorant birdbrained daddy's girl. The Akatsuki Island had a pretty bad reputation – mostly visited by drunkard, pirates and bandits, full of prostitutes and never emptying bars – and was the perfect place for any kind of fraudulent transaction. The kind of place where he could easily sell her to some of his acquaintance. Too bad he didn't need anything expensive these days...  

  

“Isn't there...any other island where I can find a ship to the Lands?” She asked, her voice hesitant. The news had managed to shatter her determination it seemed.  

  

Madara put some ropes on the floor, cleaning up the mess she had made by jumping into his boat unannounced; and once he was done, turned around and faced her, at last, not avoiding her pleading gaze.  

  

“Look around you.” he challenged her. He had to teach her in which delicate situation she had put herself in. The young lady simply did as he told her and stared at what were around them.  

  

Nothing.  

  

They were in the middle of _nothing_. There were not a single island, no ground, no earth where they could walk on. There was only the Ocean's water on the horizon, as far as the eye could see. She was stuck on a small raft with him, Madara Uchiha, and there was no exit she could use to escape. He heard her gulped; maybe she was finally realizing how deep in shit she was. He sat in front of her fragile and shaken silhouette and spoke, with his grave and serious voice:  

  

“By forcing your presence on my boat you agreed...no, I agreed, kindly, which is not by any kind a quality of mine, to take you where you could possibly find a mean of transportation to the Lands. We are not in your sanctuary anymore, and you should maybe start to learn your place. You are an unwanted guest on my boat and we are going exactly where I want to. That means that we are going to the Akatsuki Island whenever you want it or not. And if you have nothing else to do because I'm certainly not going to keep you company during the trip, you can start praying for the Ocean to have mercy on us and to wait that we reached the harbor before the storm starts.”  

  

Madara's jaw was aching. He hadn't talked that much in a row for a long time. That lady was starting to be poisonous. She was blankly staring at Kira, certainly in a vague attempt to cope with his sermon; and he really wished she would start praying to avoid the storm from coming too soon. She wasn't going to make through it if she couldn't handle a little speech like this one.  

When no reply came after a long minute, Madara stood up and Kira flied on top of the mast. He didn't even have the time to make a step forward before the red head eventually found her voice again.  

  

“I am sorry.” she murmured, and then there was silence again.  

  

Madara turned around. He hadn't excepted her to react this way – why would she apologize when he had been the one shouting at her face? - but there was no other person with them on the boat and he was not the type to have auditive hallucinations. She repeated herself louder as soon as he faced her, her eyes fixated on him, this time not avoiding his judgment.  

  

“You were right. I had no right to talk about your brother like I did. I had been very...impolite, to say the least; and yet you've still accepted my mad request and I am really, truly, deeply grateful for that – I will never thank you enough for that. So, again, I am sorry and, thank you. Thank you a lot. And...also...sorry for implying that you were a poor bored man with no goals or occupations in life with no friends or-”  

  

“I accept your apologizes.” he cut her off, before the murderous urges to push her back under water came back and took the best of him.  

  

“It's just that...Izuna had stayed a lot with us, with me. He was my only friend, and he was so fond of you. You really have no idea of how fond of you he was. I know so much about you thanks to-”  

  

The lady never finished her sentence. She stopped right in the middle of it, probably as soon as she witnessed the distress on the fisherman's face. It wasn't hard to see that sorrow was eating in from the inside. And Madara didn't really know what had possessed her right at this moment: maybe it was the sight of him sulking so much – Izuna was _really_ a sensitive subject – or a sudden burst of sympathy, or worse, of pity; but he clearly saw Mito came closer to him and, clumsily, she patted him on the shoulder.  

  

“You know, it's wasn't your fault.”  

  

Her voice was warm, just like her hands, but his skin and ears were something that couldn't be reached, not anymore. She was obviously trying to comfort him. What a silly idea, he thought. As if a single pat and four magical words could bring anyone from the dead.  

  

“Let's never talk about Izuna again, if you please.” His tone wasn't that harsh, but it was clearly not a demand.  

  

“Okay.” She did agree softly, and resumed to patting his shoulder mechanically as if he was a...pet – did she think he was a cat or something?  

  

And then, she asked innocently, as if her only purpose in her life was to make everything even more harder than it already was. “What do you want to talk about then?”  

  

Madara silently took her hand off of his shoulder as if it was poisonous and resumed to navigation, totally ignoring her stupid suggestion. She must have stared at his back for at least five minutes before his reaction – or rather, lack of reaction – made finally sense to her. Apparently she got the message wrong.  

  

“We can talk about Hashirama; if you-.” She offered, hesitantly.  

  

“I don't care about your boyfriend.”  

  

“Nuh-uh.” She almost smirked, and now she was moving her finger in front of him from left to right, a stupid and annoying habit that suited women so well and that Madara couldn't stand one bit. “First, he is not my boyfriend; and second, you care. You wouldn't have let me on your boat if you didn't."  

  

She was certainly making allusion to his sudden change of behavior the moment she had mentioned Hashirama's future a little bit earlier when she was still soaked in the cold morning water . "What had made you so upset earlier by the way? You don't even know him.”  

  

He remembered his previous interrogation about the Senju clan's behavior. “I've just found extremely curious the fact that your Hashirama would have been killed if he was to be returned to his beloved family, who had certainly be waiting for him as much as you have over this past five years by the way.” She frowned childishly at his last remark. “Family is the most important thing for an Uchiha. We could always count on each other, even in the middle of a battle; even when one was injured to death he was always here for his brothers, defending them and saving them before his own life. I only feel pity for that poor Hashirama, that's all. To think his own family wants him dead, there isn't anything more pathetic than that.”  

  

“It's because you don't know the Senjus.” she added bitterly. As Hashirama's fiancée she must have heard of them. She apparently liked them as much as he did; that was at least one thing they had in common.  

  

“Young girl, I know more than I would have wanted to know about the Senju, believe me.” The smell of blood, of iron, the cries of soldiers and of his mother's distress; these things he would have prefer to be ignorant of. “There are parts of the Lands, and therefore they are totally uninteresting to me. But I guess a little chat with you about that matter wouldn't hurt; we won't reach solid ground before the end of the day, for want of anything entertaining at least it will occupy your mouth for some time.”  

  

The young lady looked offended but eventually, she sat up next to him. Both were placed at the bow, scrutinizing the horizon soundlessly until Mito decided to start her story. It sounded almost like a fairy tale. She had a very nice voice to listen to, she would do a fantastic narrator.  

  

“The Senju clan was one of the main leaders of the Lands. They controlled, more or less, half of the territory, from what I've heard; and the other one was ruled by the Hagoromo clan.”  

  

“And considering we were often hired by the Hagoromo clan I assume that these two weren't the best neighbors on the Lands.” He interrupted her, his gaze still stuck on the oscillation of the Ocean.  

  

She laughed. He didn't know why – usually he knew when he was being funny, with his cynical and sarcastic remarks he always found one or two witty whiskey drinkers to have fun with – but she seemed delighted. “You've just given the perfect image of that stupid conflict. I don't even know if the men dying on the battlefield know that old story anymore. Anyway, they were fighting over a tree. Can you believe it?”  

  

“I do.” He said with his monotonous voice. “Humans are morons. They only want to fight against each other. They will use whatever reason they can find to justify their blood lust. Go ahead.”  

  

She pouted and looked grumpy for a moment – what for exactly? He didn't understand that woman behavior sometimes, but to be frank it wasn't new to him, he had always had issues with understanding people. “That's not just your every day's tree. It's a God Tree. At least for the Senju.”    
 

Madara raised an eyebrow. “So the people of the Lands are worshiping a work of Nature. That's the first time I heard of something that makes so much sense, coming from them. I'm quite impressed.” He was being cynical but he doubted the lady sitting next to him got the hint. It didn't matter anyway.  

  

“The God Tree is planted right in the middle of the Lands, and the forest around It is very wealthy." She went on. "When the Senju and the Hagoromo clans had drawn the map of the Lands for the first time, they had argued over weeks, because the Harogomos wanted the fertility of the earth behind the Tree and the Senjus just wanted to worship their God. At the end of the day, the forest was cut into two: the Senjus obtained the trunk, the roots of the Tree and the right part of the forest whereas the Harogomos' were granted with the left part. This was supposed to close the argument for good, and it has for quite a long time; until the Fruit came out, out of nowhere.”  

  

Mito made a small pause in the middle of her tale, watching closely for Madara's reaction. He had listened carefully for sure but it wasn't as if that kind of stories could shake or affect him in any ways. He was himself very respectful of the Lady of the Ocean – he didn't want to call it a Goddess, like his guest sitting next to him did – and thus, had found he could maybe relate a bit more on the Senju clan. He had always considered that acknowledging the Nature's strength and supremacy over the human condition was a sign of wisdom and healthiness.  

  

“Life had a really bad taste of humour because, the Fruit chose to bloom on the left part of the Tree, just above the Hagoromo's lands. And now, both clans are fighting for it. Who really owned the fruit? Nobody could answer, and so men had been fighting since that time, dying, making women widows and children orphans, for a damn little fruit.”  

  

She sighed once the last words escaped her mouth. She looked tired, Madara thought, more tired then this morning. Thinking and talking about all this must have had a bad impact on her. After all she probably didn't have the opportunity to talk so freely about her lost husband for the past five years. Bringing it up in lost in the middle of the Ocean with a complete stranger showed just how much it had hurt her, how much she had wished and needed to talk about him but couldn't.  

  

“Your little story was far from uninteresting.” He commented once she had finished. “But it doesn't tell me why Hashirama is in danger now that the war was ended. Which is, if I recalled correctly, what I was curious about in the first place.” Yes, Mito looked sad, but he didn't care. He wasn't the kind of men to be nice just for people around him to feel more comfortable – them being men or women, children or elders.  

  

“He didn't believe. In the God Tree, I mean. He thought it was a pure nonsense to send people dying on the battlefield for something that wasn't real. He said the blood and the pain were, and that it was more than enough proof for him to be convinced that, religions were bad for Mankind. That's why he came to the Islands in first place, to learn how we were functioning without fighting. That's when we…we…”  

  

She sighed and rested her head on her hands, hiding her eyes from the rest of the world – and from Madara's sight, maybe she was trying to hide her tears again.  

  

“He was the one who told you about this, wasn't he?”  

  

“Yes.” She mumbled inaudibly into her hands, sniffing in the process.  

  

“Is he considered as a traitor?”  

  

“Not yet.” She raised her head and wiped her tears away. “But I have a bad feeling about it. We still don't really know what had caused the war to end. I can't help but think he has something to do with it. I mean, it can only be him.”  

  

“You still love him?” The question was innocent in his mouth, and it sounded more like an affirmation after hearing the way she had talked about him since this morning. He knew nothing about love matters - he had stopped caring about that the night Izuna had drowned six feet under. But the way the redhead woman raised her gaze and, slowly – almost tiredly – meeting his halfway with so much anger and disenchantment; he felt as if he had just stabbed her in the back when she had expected it the least. There was something he didn't quite understand, about the force and intensity of her eyes, of her anger, something that had to do with love and her deep feeling but that he couldn't understand –and that he didn't want to, not anymore.  

  

She didn't deign to answer. She took the letter from her bag instead, ignoring his inquiring eyes, and read it again. And again. And again...lost in the past, the melancholy on her face came back.  

  

_'To_ _my_ _only_ _dearly_ _beloved_ _,_   

_This_ _is_ _my_ _farewell_ _letter_ _to_ _you_ _...'_   

  

Madara turned his head before reading any further. He didn't need to. He was pretty amazed of his vision memory. He only had the chance to read it twice and yet, he already knew Hashirama's letter by heart.  

  

“I'm taking a nap. Stay on the course.” Madara then lie on the wooden frame and try to find a comfortable position with his head lined against the mast.  

  

He saw her eye widened. He forgot she had never sail before, but he was inexplicably tired all of a sudden and he was still the one in command here; so if he wanted to take a nap he would take a nap, endpoint.  

  

“Just. Don't touch anything. Wake me up if the storm is coming.” He instructed her, trying as best as he could to reassure her but in the end her shaking hands taught him he had poorly failed. Too bad, within the second he was peacefully asleep, soothing by the continuous rocking of the waves. She didn't need to worry anyway. The Ocean had always guided him where he'd had to be.  

  

  

.  

  

  

Scratching, tapping, gnashing sounds came to his ears all too soon. He was hot, extremely hot; he could feel the burning sun hitting on his clothes and his moist skin underneath. He covered his eyes with his arm before carefully opening them. According to the position on the sun it was probably past noon – he had really slept too much – but the thought of having drifted for so long didn't bother him, he always knew how to come back home anyway.  

  

But then, he realized he wasn't alone anymore.  

  

He sat up straight and looked for the Uzumaki lady. He found her soon enough – the boat was rather small after all – rocking back and forth like a mad man. She was the source of the din that had managed to extract him from his sleep. Was she feeling anxious?  

  

“...You're awake.”  

  

Her voice was low and slightly shaking. She might be a little bit on edge it seemed. After all Madara had let the poor girl on her own for at least four hours when she knew nothing about sailing, with absolutely no indication or instruction whatsoever, with no one else to talk – welcome to the world of loneliness, Lady Mito.  

  

He was almost ready to present his excuses to her when the next thing she asked him led him to understand that, the sophisticated woman she was had very different preoccupations.  

  

“I need to use the lady's room.”  

  

She let him speechless – because, he had absolutely no idea of what she was referring to, at least at first. But she looked so embarrassed that it wasn't that complicated to guess what she was talking about, even for someone like Madara who had such little knowledge about woman's physiology.  

  

“You need...to pee?”  

  

She remained silent.  

  

“...Or to po-”  

  

“Pee. I need to pee.” She repeated, nodding awkwardly as if she was talking to herself.  

  

Oh. Then what was the problem? When he had those urge Madara just took down his pants and...Right. Women didn't have the same type of equipment.  

  

“You can use the Ocean. What? Don't look at me that way...” Her eyes were as big as those of a mackerel. “Fishes pee in the Ocean. I don't see why you could not. Just wait for me to wash a little.”  

  

She just stood there gaping while Madara was taking his shirt – and more surprisingly, her shawl, which had found itself around his shoulder mysteriously – off and put some fresh water over his shoulders. The fresh air blowing on his wet skin spent shivers to his spine and the fisherman closed his eyes to fully enjoy the blissful sensation of being surrounded by Nature greatness and gentle caresses.  

  

“Now, except if you're on your periods – I don't want you to entice the sharks - you can...go...” He turned around and stopped mid-sentence, stunned by Mito's still gaping mouth and distant gaze. He couldn't believe it. She was _staring_ – and needless to say, she wasn't being any discreet, not at all.  

  

“I didn't know you were going to wet yourself that way.” He said harshly. The young lady blushed furiously before looking away in shame, watching their surroundings. There were still no lands in sight, just high rocks coming from the Ocean with some gulls resting quietly on top of them.  

  

“You should at least take off your pants. Linen clothes are easy to dry but I don't want to smell piss on my boat for the rest of the day.”  

  

Turning her back to her, he let Mito changed, not even once shooting a quick glance over her feminine naked body. His mind was instead focus on their localization and on the mess she had spread on his boat. According to his sense, they were not very far from the Akatsuki Island; they had a little bit diverged from the right direction but nothing too serious. Mito had tried to use a sea map and an...old compass – she probably had stolen them at her father's room this morning – and by judging the way the map was angled it was crystal clear she'd had no idea of what she had been doing. Great.  

  

Madara took the main sail down and as soon as he took sight of small boulders he paddled carefully close to them, and circled them with a tight rope in order to prevent the boat from drifting away while the miss was answering the call of Nature. When they eventually stayed still, he heard a loud splash. Then, silence – except for Kira's soft cooing.  

  

“Did you touch anything?” He asked her, not to pass time or to make it easier for her to proceed – oh no he wasn't making anything easier – but because he was genuinely interested in her answer.  

  

“Hum, no. I don't think so.”  

  

“Did you or did you not? It's not a complicated question.”  

  

“Well, I don't know if you have noticed but I'm a little bit busy down here. And I pretty sure I didn't touch anything. Not intentionally in any case.”  

  

“Women these days, they do not make any sense at all.”  

  

He heard her smirked, and came back on the boat – how she managed without his help, he didn't know and didn't care; but he was very grateful. She took her shawl and dried her limbs, put her trousers back and joined him next to her map.  

  

“You don't like women, do you?” she asked him lightly.  

  

“I do not hate them either. I generally don't like people.”  

  

“What about men?”  

  

“What part of _'I_ _generally_ _don't_ _like_ _people_ ' do you have trouble understanding?”  

  

She dropped the subject after seeing his unamused gaze. Madara had been granted with the wonderful capacity of making awful and terrifying faces whenever he wanted to, and he would never thank his parents enough for that. At least he could stay quiet every time he wanted – or needed – to.  

He closed the map and put it back in Mito's bag. She wanted to protest but he stopped her before she had the chance to.  

  

“The Akastuki Island is not on that map, or on any other map. They don't really need the authorities to find them; it's becoming a well-known place.”  

  

She gave him a distrustful look before eventually, lying down and taking her round of sleep. Judging on the rings behind her eyes she must be exhausted, maybe she hadn't slept at all the night before, too tormented by her memory and her love for Hashirama.  

  

And then everything was back to normal. They were just travelling, he and Kira, alone in the infinity of the Ocean, lost in the middle of nowhere, a single meaningless drop of water sailing on the soothing waves.  

  

.  

  

  

_'To_ _my_ _only_ _dearly_ _beloved_   

_This_ _is_ _my_ _farewell_ _letter_ _to_ _you_ _._   

  

_After_ _what_ _I_ _had_ _witnessed_ _in front of_ _my_ _very_ _eyes_ _,_ _after_ _what_ _happened_ _to_ _my_ _brother_ _, I_ _can't_ _stay_ _without_ _doing_ _anything_ _anymore_ _._ _I've_ _lived_ _enough_ _on_ _my_ _privilege_ _and I_ _think_ _it's_ _time for me to_ _finally_ _voice_ _my_ _thoughts_ _. I_ _am_ _going_ _to_ _war_ _. Not_ _against_ _our_ _enemies_ _, but_ _against_ _my_ _father's_ _will_ _._   

  

_And as_ _I'm_ _standing in front of_ _Destiny_ _I_ _can't_ _help but_ _think_ _about_ _you_ _. About_ _your_ _mesmerizing_ _eyes_ _and_ _your_ _divine_ _voice_ _._ _Every_ _single night_ _since_ _that_ _fateful_ _day_ _, I_ _dream_ _about_ _those_ _and I_ _c_ _an't_ _tell if_ _they're_ _part of the_ _most_ _magnificent_ _of_ _dreams_ _or if_ _they_ _are a_ _dreadful_ _reminder_ _of the living_ _nightmare_ _I'm_ _looking_ _forward_ _to; not_ _being_ _able to_ _see_ _them_ _, to_ _caress_ _your_ _face_ _any_ _longer. I_ _may_ _not come back_ _this_ _time, and_ _this_ _more_ _than_ _any_ _thing_ _makes_ _me_ _realized_ _that_ _all_ _my_ _life has been a lie, and_ _that_ _from_ _all the men in the Lands I_ _am_ _undoubtedly_ _the_ _most_ _cowardly_ _among_ _them_ _._   

  

_Because_ _there_ _are all_ _those_ _things_ _I have_ _never_ _been able to tell_ _you_ _. All the_ _things_ _you_ _have_ _changed_ _in me, al_ _l the_ _things_ _you_ _have_ _given_ _me, all the_ _things_ _you_ _make_ _me_ _feel_ _even_ _now_ _; all the secrets I have been prudent to_ _keep_ _hidden_ _in_ _my_ _heart_ _. I_ _was_ _too_ _afraid_ _to_ _disclose_ _them_ _to_ _you_ _,_ _too_ _scared_ _to_ _lose_ _you_ _because_ _of_ _my_ _undying_ _love for_ _you_ _. And_ _I'll_ _never_ _ex_ _cuse_ _myself_ _for_ _being_ _too_ _slow to_ _understand_ _what_ _had_ _always_ _been the_ _most_ _important_ _thing_ _to me,_ _that_ _thing_ _I_ _had_ _been_ _searching_ _all_ _my_ _life and_ _that_ _I_ _had_ _missed_ _countless_ _time_ _when_ _it_ _was_ _just_ _in front of me._   

  

_[…]'_   

  

“Such a coward that he didn't have the guts to write her full name on the damn letter.” Madara commented to himself bitterly. That was such a waste, to put so much love into one simple letter and to omit the name of the Lady it was destined to. Though Mito was absolutely sure it had been for her, without a doubt. Maybe they shared the same kind of relationship he had with the Ocean - a complete trust in each other, an unerring kind of faith – which was the stupidest thing they could have done, for men being the last thing on earth that should be trusted.  

  

She shifted slightly in her sleep, and he wondered if she was dreaming of him. Of Hashirama. If she was... _seeing_ him, like she had told him she could.  

  

Had she really been honest, when she had talked about Izuna's death?  

  

Part of his mind wanted to say no but, Madara was a clever man. Sure he knew little about the rest of the world but he was the only one who could have possibly knew about what she had said. The mast, his jump...  

  

He came back alive this night, but he had been the only one.  

  

Madara got close to her, and touched her noise. It was cold. Clouds have started to gather all around them and the temperature had started to drop since the lady decided to take a rest. He saw her frowned, running her delicate features; and quickly he enveloped her small frame with her now dried shawl. The green color was a nice matching with her skin and hair, and maybe even with her eyes – he didn't quite remember their color, he wasn't fond of blue eyes and never understood why people gave them so much credit.  

  

The feeling on the fabric under his fingers was nice. How had it landed on his shoulder earlier? It was probably her making. The same warm, weird feeling he'd got when he had seen his breakfast trail this morning filled his cheeks. The lady was maybe more than just what she looked like. What if...what if she was...  

  

.II.

 

A single cloth wouldn't be enough to keep her warm. Madara did what any respectful man wouldn't have dared to: he searched inside her bag for something warmer – a wool jacket or anything – but he didn't find any. Instead the redhead had brought a laughable amount of unnecessary things: make up, pictures of her parents, letters from Hashirama, a necklace, a purse full of golden coins – he had never seen so many – pretty much nothing was relevant for her short trip.  

  

She was totally unprepared. She had leapt into the void on a whim, just because she was convinced she could save Hashirama. Not knowing where he was, how to get to him, how to save him, not even knowing if he was still alive – but in a way she didn't care about all that, it felt like she just _had_ _to_.  

  

Madara took off his shirt again and covered her upper body with it. Soon after she stopped shivering, his heat still exuding from the cotton cloth. Maybe it was true after all. Maybe Hashirama and Mito had that kind of bond, an invisible and indestructible one that only real lovers could share. Lovers...  

  

He found himself daydreaming, about his ancient life, about a time that he thought he had forgotten, when Izuna was still alive and playing him vicious tricks. He let himself get lost in the pleasant memories, even if he knew too well he would regret it in the end. The feelings were uncertain, escaping him through his finger like water. He had let them go, years ago, but somehow they were still here although he had sworn to forget about them all. Pain and hatred were born from Love and now that he was living on his own, Madara was tired of being angry of the past.  

So, one last time, he gazed into the horizon absentmindedly until the boat went through the frog. They were close. Madara could see the lanterns coming from the harbor.  

  

Akatsuki Island. That's where their road would diverge from one another. He sighed. He'd wake her up before going to Kakuzu and then, he could go back to his normal routine.   

  

At long last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually I can really explain. Why it was so long to update.  
> First I was very 'young' when I first posted it and I think the lack of reply totally...destroy my will to continue.  
> I have written like 100k of this story it meant a lot to me, I wrote it while working for my medecine test...my waifu helped me beta it...it meant a lot.  
> So I was kinda sad no one liked it? I guess it's a normal reaction to have.  
> Then years and years ago I got a comment and I...remembered this story existed...and I read the first chapter and I still remembered it like by heart omg that was so strange.  
> So I decided to post what I had in store. It's a story in 5 parts and I've done the first 3.  
> This will probably stay incomplete except if inspiration strikes me again because I don't really remember what I wanted to doin the end hahaha
> 
> Anyway
> 
> Merci a toi pour ce ptit commentaire comme quoi, on pense tjs que ça sert a rien mais en fait, c'est faux. Voila. Casse'dédi.


	3. III

## \-- III ---

 

* * *

 

Madara had taken the lady's bag with him, had put his shirt back on and was now waiting for Mito to wake up. He vaguely considered throwing a bucket of icy water on her face but remembered she wasn't one of his alcoholic fellows and should then be treated properly. Though he had no idea how to treat lady the way it was expected of him to do.  

  

He squeezed her shoulder hard and it was enough to wake up her. She was visibly drowsy and confused, hurt too; maybe he had used too much strength on his grip. She rubbed her shoulder before getting up on her feet.  

  

“Akatsuki Island, I guess?” She tried to figure out their vicinity but the fog was too thick to distinguish any shape more than five inches away. Even Madara could barely see his feet as they walked on the pier and exited the harbor.  

He told Kira to stay on the boat and wait for them – she was going to get kidnapped if someone saw her flying inside the town, her fur was way too nice for the people living here – and then, their footsteps on the old wooden bridge guided them to the paved streets.  

The fog slowly dissipated, revealing to them the ugly reality of the debauchery island.  

  

The Akatsuki Island was merely just a town with no authorities whatsoever. The pavement was used to the rope, the streets were the dirtiest Madara had ever walked on, and with no restriction or strict rules running the inhabitants, incivilities were the common routine. But when you got along those rules life was quiet pleasant here, thanks to the bars and, well. Mito didn't seem to have the same opinion about that barbarian lifestyle.  

  

“Make sure to stay close to me.” he told her. She was constantly checking on where her feet landed -  sure it wasn't as neat as the sanctuary floors but a little bit of urine have never killed anyone – and on the people that were passing by them, looking at them, scrutinizing them as if there were some kind of curious new species - they were clearly too clean and smelt too good to be villagers. Most of the passer-byes were already drunk before sunset, celebrating the end of the war, shouting, singing. Nothing extraordinary so far and Madara remembered one of Kakuzu's saying he had heard the first time he'd come here.  

  

The more drunk they were, the nearest his bar was.  

  

Kakuzu was quite the celebrity here. Starting with nothing but his clever brain and solid accounting notions, he had set up his own business with his partner Hidan and now they were providing the whole island with cheap alcohol and splendid call-girls, 24/7, even if most of the town only live at night time. He became so famous in such a short amount of time that the authorities had launched a warrant of arrest under his name for corruption, prostitution, smuggling and even murders – which didn't surprised Madara that much considering his temper. The two men had already had to deal with those kind of issues, both being pretty good at getting mad at the slightest provocation.  

  

The bartender had also another saying. The louder they moaned, the nearest his brothel was.  

  

Madara saw Mito covering her ears as they walked through a narrow back alley. It smelled of piss and other human fluids. Madara took a look over his shoulder and greeted one of the prostitutes, who he had met in the past and he immediately felt the lady's elbow hitting softly on his ribs – was she trying to hurt him? - and cursing under her breath. She had apparently hurt on of her foot against the cobbled road.  

  

“We're almost here.” he said softly, to make her feel better – maybe she wouldn't hold on his arm so hard if she wasn't feeling so uneasy - to what she only replied with a small pout.  

  

“I never would have imagined it would be that bad.”  

  

“Battlefields are even worse to see, or to be in. You cannot blame men for trying to find a way to forget what they have witnessed during wars when you know nothing about it. Don't judge them so lightly.”  

  

This shut her mouth for the rest of the trip to Kakuzu's bar.  

  

Unfortunately for him they reached the front door rather quickly. It said 'open' – it was always open, he wondered when Kakuzu even took time to sleep – and he pushed on the sticky wooden front gate, letting the light from the inside illuminate the pavement.  

  

The room was filled with small chatters and low masses, a brilliant contrast next to the world outside. Everything was quiet and almost tidy. Konan was sweeping in the corner and Hidan polishing his whisky glasses behind the counter which was in the very centre of the bar. It was still rather early to get drunk, even in this island, so the place was only half crowded. There were some customers scattered around the bar, sitting alone in front of their empty glasses on their round table.  

  

The blue-haired woman was the first one to notice them. She saw Madara and immediately turned her head on the opposite direction, resuming to her task twice as hard. Mito raised her eyebrow at him, waiting for an explanation but he chose to ignore it just as Konan did – and it was for the good.  

  

Instead he was greeted by Hidan's raucous laugh, which was in ways better than anything he could have hoped for after neglecting this place for so long. The bartender was maybe just ten years older than him but already had white hair - Kakuzu once told him they had known a time with no war, but Madara couldn't believe it, they couldn't be _that_ old. His left eye was still hidden with a dark eye-patch, a wound he'd made during on of the famous battle occurring in the bar during war time. Madara had never talked to him much, but he knew he was a good bartender and that was enough.  

Both of them reached the counter and before they could even open their mouth the white haired man had already put two glasses in front of their seats.  

  

“You owe us.” he said seriously, contrasting fiercely with his previous personality.  

  

“Nice to see you again Hidan. Can I have a talk with Kakuzu about that matter?” Madara took the seat and gulped down his drink – one shot of course – then closed his eyes, enjoying the burning liquor flowing down to his stomach. Mito only looked at her drink as if staring at it would make it disappeared from her view.  

  

“You bet he'll come down for ya. You own him money for god's sake. He'd killed good friends for less than that.” The waiter took a half empty Rum bottle and was ready to fill his costumer again but Madara stopped him by raising his hand politely.  

  

“I have important things to discuss with him. I need to have my mind as clear as possible. But you can give her anything she wants.” He tilted his head towards the Uzumaki lady who was still watching her glass blankly, as if she had just stopped functioning – maybe she was sleeping again with her eyes opened.  

  

“Right', I'll call him for ya. You're lucky he's been in a good mood lately – I mean, with the end of the war people are coming here twice as much and we're literally the richest men on earth. So he won't shout too much. You know how he can scare clients when he is moody, and I'm not talking about what he could do to such a delicate lady. First time here sweetheart?”  

Mito's shoulders stiffened in defence. “Yes.” Madara said in her place. “She's a priestess from the Uzushio Island.” Some other customers entered the bar and Hidan greeted them, telling Konan to take care of incomers before returning his attention to them. “Sorry I won't be able to talk with ya all night long, as much as I want to. Where have you been lately? We've barely seen you the past year.”  

  

“Busy." he vaguely answered. "How about you go get your man's ass down there so you can serve the newcomer and so I can get out of here before Konan tries to kill me?”  

  

“Hey, don't touch to my man's ass okay? He is not to be shared.” Hidan said, pulling his red check tea towel over his shoulder. “Don't check them out either, I'll be watching you. That works for you too, young lady. As for Konan, you totally deserve it.”  

  

“Good bye, Hidan.”  

  

The waiter rolled his eyes and took his broom, hitting on the ceiling with the tip three times before pulling it down and leaving the two of them sitting on the counter alone. Mito looked bored, her drink was still untouched and the melancholy on her face was back. Kakuzu had better have some good news for her, otherwise staying a whole night there would probably be enough to finish her on the spot.  

  

He tried to get her attention back at him by watching her intensively. She was about to get her tickets for the Lands, to join her lover again; she should be happy, not gloomy. It's not like he was caring though, in a couple of hours he would be drunk and freed from her, it was the least he could do.  

She turned her head towards him a couple of seconds later and faked a smile. He showed her he wasn't buying any of it and she made a face, then looked back on her drink, and then on the people surrounding them.  

  

“Is that her?” She asked him, showing him the waitress still sweeping far away from them. “The Konan girl you were talking about?”  

  

“Yes.” he simply told her, not dwelling on the delicate subject.  

  

“What happened? Did you-” She mimed that thing with her fingers that he thought she never wouldn't have dared to do and he found it incredible and deeply insulting at the same time.  

  

“Yes, and I've never seen her again after. That's why I stopped coming here. Happy?”  

  

She didn't seem pleased with his answer but at least they wouldn't talk about it anymore. It was funny how she turned out to be ridiculously good at finding subject he didn't want to talk about - and to be fair with her, there weren't a lot of think he was fond of talking.  

  

Her eyes widened when finally, the bartender came from his room upstairs. True the man was pretty impressive, with his large shoulders and his gloomy green eyes. To be honest even to Madara he didn't really look human – who could like math that much seriously? - So he couldn't really blame her for being that scared.  

  

Kakuzu frowned as soon as he saw his spiky dark haired and, before he could insult him for not having paid him the last time, Madara took two golden coins out of Mito's bag as a sign of good faith. The large man got closer and sniffed the piece of gold. He started at Madara's eyes suspiciously but then, he seemed to believe in his good intentions.  

  

“This is more than you own me.” He finally said, taking the money away from him.  

  

“I know. It's for last time, plus tonight.”  

  

“Unless you intend to drink until both of you are dead drunk on my floor there is still too much. You know I don't like having debts. What do you want this time, Madara?”  

  

“Information.”  

  

Mito head that was slowly but surely getting closer to the counter's table suddenly lifted up. The way she looked straight into Madara with her eyes filled with hope showed them they had her full attention now.  

  

Kakuzu curiously eyed the young lady, then gave back his attention to his old friend. “What kind of information do you want this time?”  

  

“About the war, the Lands.” The fisherman said vaguely.  

  

The old bartender frowned at this. “And just when did you decide that the Lands were finally worth your attention? You were the one always proclaiming you'll never give a fuck about the Lands, if my memory isn't playing tricks on me.”  

  

“I'm doing it for this charming young lady sitting next to me." He bent his head towards Mito. "You wouldn't leave a lady in distress, would you? It's against 'etiquette'.”  

  

“Madara, before using a complicated word in a discussion you should learn how to use it properly,” retorted Kakuzu, to Mito's great pleasure – she was finally smiling; too bad it was such a rarity, she was so much more pretty with a grin painted on her face – and the old scary man finally turned to her, inspecting her.  

  

“You have beautiful red hair. Are you one of those terrifying mermaids, singing sailors lullabies to bewitch them and eat them alive?”  

  

“Not that I'm aware of. But my mother was said to be a great singer.” she quickly answered his inquiry. “Her lullabies only make me sleep though; I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you on that matter.”  

  

“Such a pretty face like yours can be disappointing. What do you want to know about the Lands?”  

  

“I just want to know how to go there. The Kage Tower, that's where I have to go.”  

  

Kakuzu laughed – he and Hidan had the same, annoying loud antics and it was really bothersome – and purred himself a drink. “This isn't a place for such a lady. I would even be worried about Madara if he were to go there. And you probably know the guy; he is a tough and stubborn one.”  

  

“But I need to save Hashirama!” She nearly shouted, as she got on her feet. Madara could see the tears that were threatening to come back, watering her long and elegant eyelashes. But what intrigued him the most was Kakuzu's puzzled face when she had pronounced her old lover's name. That Hashirama didn't seem to be a mere pawl of the Senju clan - who could he be?   

  

The whole bar became silent, and then  progressively, old and new customers started chatting again, about little nothing, about the war, their wives...Everyone except Kakuzu. He looked rather lost in his thoughts, barely dunking his sharp lips on his whisky.  

  

“Hey babe, what's up?” Hidan came back with a round trail full of empty drink and got behind the counter.  

  

“Hidan please, take this lady to Sasori. He is an old friend of mine," he told Mito after Hidan had put all the dishes on the sink, "and he has just come back from the Lands. He will surely have the information you are looking for.”  

  

She excused herself and blindly followed her new guide without looking back – a bad habit of hers that would surely get her in trouble one day, Madara thought. He stood up too and intended to follow her steps when Kakuzu's strong hand on his wrist told him he wasn't going anywhere else.  

  

“We need to talk.” He just said, and that's how he found himself in tête-à-tête with his old friend Kakuzu and with an old, very old bottle of the best Rhum he ever had the chance to taste.  

  

  

.  

  

  

“Do you know who that girl is?” Madara asked him. He was far from being a fool. Inside her bag were things that hadn't been made on the Islands. Things that came from the Lands. And yet she had never left her homeland – where did all that come from? Or more precisely, who gave all those things to her?  

  

It couldn't be Hashirama. The makeup was only half used.  

  

“Do you know where that comes from?” Kakuzu answered him with a question, as always, being the kind of man who liked to lead the conversation a little bit too much. He had one of Mito's golden coins between two of his fingers. “I haven't seen a lot of these here recently...because those coins you gave me came directly from the Harogomo's safe.”  

  

He frowned, that was entirely unexpected – and they poured each other another drink.  

  

“Knowing you, you've probably searched through her belongings. Did you find it?”  

  

“Find what?” He drank - the old Rum was really delicious.  

  

“Her engagement ring.”  

  

And he spat out the brown liquid into the other's face – hopefully it was covered by his mask.  

Kakuzu washed his soaked face and then sighed. “You haven't changed a single bit, still oblivious to women's behavior, and little details. No wonder why Konan hates you. There is a small white mark on her left ring finger. That means she had taken off her ring very recently.”  

  

Madara had looked everywhere. And his memory couldn't be failing him. What he had seen could only be the astonishing truth.  

  

“It wasn't there.” he said in disbelief.  

  

Kakuzu gravely paused his drink in front of him. “Madara, this is a warning, a friendly warning. Who ever she is that woman is linked with the Hagoromo clan, in a way or another. She is looking for a man, a powerful man in the past, belonging to their most deadly enemies. You also know that she is married and had clearly tried to hide it from you. What I think is that you have absolutely no control of the situation here, and that this woman might as well be fleeing from an unhappy marriage than being send to kill Hashirama Senju by the Hagoromo clan. If I were you, I would sail her back home - or, better, sell her to me. She's pretty she'll be a good wh-”  

  

“That was one of the possibilities I had under my sleeve if she was being too troublesome.” For some reason he didn't feel like hearing the end of his sentence.  

  

Kakuzu laughed again. “You need to drink more. You're funnier when you're tipsy.”  

  

Madara finished his drink with an unamused face.  

  

“And about Hashirama? The Senju brat.” He corrected himself, not wanting to sound too familiar with the man. "You said he was a powerful man, in the past. People thought he was dead, his own family wants him dead...what had happened to him?" Truth is, he didn't know him personally. In fact he didn't know him at all; but after hearing so many things about the man it was as if he was a part of his family – but only an old cousin, at the most.  

  

“There are only rumors. Sasori knows better, he was there after all. But from what I've heard, that guy is a saint. He might have very well saved us from the madness of the war.” And then Madara realized he hadn't expected any less of the man who had written the love letter. Even without meeting him, he already had high standards for Hashirama, he who had never excepted anything from men – and that was getting all too ridiculous for a single letter he had randomly found on a deserted beach.   

“She said she saw him on the Kage Tower.” The bartender looked at him with questioning eyes. “She is a priestess. She can... _see_ things. You'll need more alcohol to understand it and to eventually completely forget about it once you'll wake up tomorrow so let's just not waste our time on that. Anyway, I should probably take her back to Uzushio, to her husband and to her father...”  

  

“You took her away from her husband _and_ her father? Man you don't know how deep in shit you are.”  

  

“I didn't do anything. She aggressively invited herself on my boat. I just couldn't jettison her.”  

  

“' _Etiquette_ ' told you good manners now?”  

  

“Shut up and drink. You aren't funny at all when you're sober.”  

  

And they laughed, and drank, until the bottle was completely empty and their sight was nothing but a blurred vision.  

  

“Did you know...what's actually funny...” Madara started, who really regretted not having anything to eat for the entire day – drinking on an empty stomach was the first mistake to avoid in the Akatsuki Island. “Did you know that I have found...the damn letter...in your damn bottle?”  

  

Kakuza was still laughing but didn't make any comments – comments which would indicate he was listening or that he wanted Madara to continue his story – and so, the drunken fisherman kept going. “My initial was on it. On your damn Rum bottle. On Mito's love letter. Can you...imagine? How much the universe hates me...I wouldn't be here if...it wasn't for your damn bottle...And that damn ' _M_ '...”  

  

Kakuzu had stopped laughing, which was never a very good sign.  

  

“You know,” he said, and then posed; but his voice was very clear for someone who had drunk so much and then, Madara realized that maybe he had been the one drinking the entire bottle by himself. “About five or six years ago that night when you came here for your birthday, a bottle had indeed disappeared and, I always thought it was your brother's doing. But now that you've mentioned it, I think the guy was there. That Hashirama Senju along with a white haired-guy. So that was him...”  

  

Madara had stopped laughing too. Kakuzu noticed and immediately felt guilty for talking about Izuna when his friend was still mourning and in pain – and drunk, on top of that.  

  

“Hey, I'm sorry. Stay here for tonight. I'll treat you to dinner.”  

  

He smirked. “You're the second man to say me that in two days.”  

  

“You've always been a man-killer. What can I possibly do about it?”  

  

“Just don't say it too loud when Hidan's ears are so close. I don't want both of your waitresses to plot against me during the night.”  

.  

  

  

When they came back downstairs Konan was waiting for them near the counter with two empty drinks. She looked pissed, her voice was aggressive.  

  

“Your friend sure isn't funny. She didn't even want to taste our best bottle.”  

  

“Give the lady a break would you?" he barked, not making any effort to articulate properly. "I'm the one who deserves your wrath, not her.”   

  

Konan just glared at them and brought them some food – a potato omelet – and poured them some water. Kakuzu looked at her with a dumbfounded gaze and she pointed out Madara's wobbly frame. Right, he was drunk.  

  

He didn't remember when Mito came in to join them. She said something about the Lands, about Hashirama – as expected she couldn't open her mouth without saying his name – and about a ship leaving tomorrow morning. Great. The journey had ended. He was completely drunk in his favorite bar and after a good night of sleep, he would be a free man. Madara took a split and found out for the first time that his drink tasted awful. Old drunkards used to tell him that alcohol only taste bad when there was something wrong with you...  

  

“Don't make that face, it's just water.” Kakuzu told him eventually, but it didn't prevent the dark thoughts from troubling his mind. He stood up and went to sleep even before Mito. He didn't say goodbye; he was too tired, too wounded, too lost to pretend he was part of that world any longer.  

  

The noise was making everything worse – or maybe it was the Rum? – and his head was aching, the room was spinning and the pain in his chest was back. The last time he had come here with Izuna they had slept in that very room, he recalled, on the same bed, hugging and laughing like there was no tomorrow. And for one of them, the following day had indeed been the very last.   

The few days after the loss Madara thought he was coping rather well, even weeks after. His mother was disconsolate, his father hadn't said a single word, but he was walking on his two feet and making every decisions in the house and organizing the funerals; he even made a speech in front of the whole clan to commemorate his brother's memory and his voice hadn't flickered once.  

  

The after-effect on the other hand - days, weeks, months later - had been disastrous.  

  

It was like the continuous waves hitting on the rock and reducing it to sand; a slow agony, a cruel but inevitable fate. Izuna was gone and he would never come back, and it was one of the truths of this world that couldn't be fixed or changed, by any means. Like the rocking of the ocean, Death was eternal, and it would be nibble on the earth until the end of time. The grief was nibbling him little by little; it was so subtle he didn't even realize it before he was found half-dead on a foreign island. The people who had rescued him had told him he had just been a little bit too reckless, and maybe it was true, the elders had often told him that lately; but after a little bit of introspection, Madara had finally figured out what was wrong with his behavior. It wasn't reckless, because he knew very well what he was doing. He knew the danger, the storms power, the probability that a five meter wave could kill him in a matter of seconds; he knew all that too well to be called reckless. No, he had acted knowing all that, rushing into the battlefield as if there were no bright tomorrows left for him, challenging the nature, challenging the Ocean and gambling with his life on the result of the match. It wasn't reckless, it was a suicide in disguise.  

  

When he had come back after that regretful incident he slowly understood what had been wrong with him, what was bothering him more than anything. It was the noise. People were talking but he couldn't really catch the meaning. Well, he could, because he wasn't deaf or anything, but the real meaning, the true purpose of the words itself was just passing through him and escaping without leaving a print in his mind. Everything, even war's meeting, had transformed into mere weather chats for him because it didn't make any sense, why would they be talking about war and having a family meeting when Izuna wasn't there yet? It was just a nuisance, an endless buzzing that had never really stopped, unless he was left alone in the wildest of the Ocean.  

  

A part of him had died that day, when the mast had felt on their boat and he didn't really know what the other half was trying to do sometimes. But there was something that he was sure of. Izuna wouldn't have wanted him to be that miserable. And, just like that, after finally he had acknowledged his problems and issues, he stood up and he never got caught by a storm again. His will to live was back, not for him but for _his_ memory, and Madara told himself that it was a valuable reason to stay alive a little bit more before the Ocean would claim what was its and allowed him to reunite with his brother again.  

  

The worse part of it had been to handle the loneliness. There wasn't anything more painful in the world than to realize he was feeling lonely when he was not alone, but in an ocean of people who probably cared a lot about him - his family, mostly; his friends maybe, if he had some. Now for sure Madara was still a lonely man, but it was by choice, not imposed, it was something he could control. And even if it was only a cheap trick, it was working rather well for him. He was coping in his own way.  

  

His head launched on the pillow. It was hard and it stunk. Worse than Hashirama's love letter. Why would he think about Hashirama, at a moment like this? He didn't even know him, Mito was right about that. But imagining a man, a man of good, being kept in jail for five long years away from his love and from his family was making him feel better. That man, whoever he was, that man was probably feeling lonely just like him.  

  

And Mito wouldn't have jumped in a stranger asocial boat if she wasn't feeling indubitably lonely too.  

  

There were three very lonely people linked by a stupid love letter and for a whole day Madara had felt a little bit better and he didn't like that feeling, no he didn't like that at all.  

  

Eventually, sleep came quickly and as he drifted. He wondered if he would miss them somehow.  

  

  

.  

  

  

“Hey...”  

  

Someone was bumping on his shoulder. A weak, regular stroking, not firm enough to bother him but the voice was an entire different story. It was the lady's voice. Had she come to say goodbye?  

  

“Hey, Madara...can I call you by your name by the way?”  

  

He grumbled. Her words were hushed but she was talking so fast that it became too irritating to ignore.  

  

“Just shut up and do as you pleased.” His head was feeling horrible. Worst hangover ever. He was glad that she was facing his back right now - the sight she could have witnessed otherwise would have been quite pitiful.  

  

“The ship is leaving in an hour, so I thought I'd say goodbye...and I...I just wanted to thank you.”  

  

“And you thought waking me up before sunset was a good way of thanking me?” He was still so tired, and could hardly opened his eyes  

  

Instead of pouting as she usually did she smiled, kindly. “I am going to miss you.”  

  

The pain in his chest grew bigger.  

  

“Anyway. I am still...pretty anxious. Nervous. I think I did not sleep a lot more than one or two hours.” There was a pause, maybe she was waiting something from him – she surely was – but Madara was too tired to think of anything clever to add. He was even surprised to see that secretly he wanted to reassure her. She looked like a scared cat.  

“Sasori is a very...special guy. But he was nice, he told me everything I wanted to know about the Lands, the Kage Tower...and Kakuzu was right it doesn't look like a place suited for a woman like me. What am I going to do? Climb it with my bare hands? Why not after all. I survived a whole day alone with you; a twenty meters high tower isn't going to kill me.”  

  

“But the fall will, certainly.”  

  

“Can you at least try to be nice, for a change?”  

  

He smirked and turned around to face her. In the darkness of the room he couldn't really see her but it wasn't as if he needed to. He already knew why she was here in the first place.  

  

“Are you clinging on me?” he asked her out of the blue.  

  

“Wh-what? I am - I ain't – I am certainly not – I mean I just...Maybe?" she surrendered rather easily, she must be desperate. "I don't want to go alone! Please Madara, wouldn't you help me? A damsel in distress?” He could almost see her blinking quickly seductively; was she really believing this would work on him?  

  

“No.”  

  

He turned his back to her again and pulled the wool blanket over his head before she could add something, but her reply never came. Instead, he could hear her light footsteps leaving the room and slowly reaching the exit. She made a pause at the doorstep. Maybe she looked at his form hidden behind the cover and thought he was a jerk, that she would be better without him, that she would definitely not miss him. He would love that.  

  

The door was being closed and he resumed making up for his lack of sleep.  

  

But then, someone was shouting Yelling. A loud and furious voice – Kakuzu's voice. There was also a soft one – probably Konan – trying to restrain him but it was too late and then the gun was shot.  

  

Then there was silence and Madara stood up. What if he had just shot Mito?  

  

There was really no reason and he knew deep down that he was being irrational – and he also knew he should rather be preoccupied by the gunshot itself, and not by the person who hypothetically got shot at, but he was still half drunk so who cared – but his legs were running on their own, driven by his guts and not by his brain and soon he was in the closed bar again, Kakuzu in his bathrobe and Konan trying to hold him back. The gun was in his hand.  

  

Madara had always had good instincts. He could feel rather well when a situation was being dangerous and when he had to leave to save his skin. That was a rare quality that apparently, Mito was lacking of.  

  

The poor girl's head was just an inch from a steamy whole in the wall, and inside that whole was probably a bullet, and next to this whole were three others and Madara didn't think. He just ran, ran towards her and lifted her, holding her by the waist. She landed on his shoulder and the next moment they were out on the empty streets. It smelt more of vomit than of piss for a change but all he cared about was Kakuzu's voice, his quick footsteps on the paved road and the screams coming from Mito's throat, desperate screams of fear and relief.  

  

She also cried because of the cold. It was raining, and raining hard. They were in the middle of a storm. The good news was that, with all that wind Kakuzu couldn't aim at them. The bad news was that they couldn't get out safely of the island with such a shitty weather.  

  

The harbor was plunged into darkness; the only lights were coming from a few houses opened windows – and considering it was rather early or really late it was a miracle that some people were awake – but still, the road was dark, add this to the gusts of wind and the diluvia rain and Madara could barely see where his feet were landing. Mito had joined her hands in front of her head and was mumbling some non-sense, maybe she was praying – but that was a little bit too late. The streets were deserted, that wasn't really surprising considering the weather, at the exception of unconscious bodies randomly lying on the ground next to their vomit. Some were careless young teenagers who thought mindlessly that they could handle the Ocean's wrath. It was rather easy to run quickly, nobody could possibly physically slowed them but they had no idea of where they were going – or where they could hide. He could still hear Kakuzu's low voice and the loud bangs of his gun – which made him realized he didn't even know why he was so mad at the poor Uzumaki lady.  

  

But there wasn't any time to waste for such small chats. He found a hiding place, protected from the rain by a sheet metal awning that wasn't going to last long; he put Mito's shaking form on the ground and tried to figure out where they had ended up. To his greatest surprise and maybe for the first time in a while he didn't know where they were. There was no sun, no smell, no wind to help him this time. The elements were deceiving him and he couldn't help but to feel completely hopeless. Everything he had put his believes on, the pillars of his foundations were crumbling under his feet and the only thing he had now to protect himself from pistol shots was a terrified priestess and her meaningless prayers. Great.  

  

Hopeful at least his ears were still working properly. He could hear the howling of the wind, the sound every drops of water made on the glass, Mito's murmurings and even Kira's swinging wings, the crumping of her beautiful feathers against the storm and when he looked up to the sky there she was, her yellow eyes glooming in the darkness of the early morning. She cried, landed on Madara's arm and nuzzled his cheek affectionately. She was as wet as they were, and he knew too well how she usually hated that feeling – Madara knew nothing about human being but it was different with Kira, she was the only friend he had ever got. He scratched softly behind her head to thank her, and when she took off of his arm Madara took Mito's wrist and dragged her along the paved road again. He couldn't count on his senses this time; however he could trust Kira's sight. The hawk could see in the darkness and knew exactly where their boat was – she was leading them to the pier, he knew that, and also he knew it was a terrible idea but he really trusted Kira more than anybody else in this cruel world so he didn't think twice before running and following her cries. Maybe he should have.  

  

Soon they were walking on wooden planks. There it was, the pier and miraculously the boat was still waiting for them. The rope he had used to hook it up was threatening to give away anytime soon and he finally understood why Kira had brought them here. It was because she knew him better than anybody else.  

It was their boat. They had built it together, named it together. That was the last reminder of his life spent with his brother. It was the last thing he was allowed to lose.  

  

"Are you coming?" Mito was shouting at him, already settled at the bow. Kira flew from his shoulder to the top of the mast, as if she was commanding him – like a mother – and both of them were waiting for him to get in, when a very strong gust of wind unsettled his already fragile balance and the last thing he felt before collapsing was something hard hitting the back of his head, followed by Mito's desperate cry.  


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the end of the Journey, don't worry.

**\-- IV --**

 

* * *

 

 

Madara felt a throbbing pain constricting his head violently. He fought the urge to vomit when he heard someone throwing up next to him. Mito's seasickness…that meant he was on a boat, on his boat. His bare hands touched the wood and he easily recognized the imperfection of the hull. He couldn't open his eyes yet; instead he rolled on his back, hit his head softly on the mast and groaned. When he tried to stroke the spot that he'd just banged on the mast, his hand made contact with the soft fabric of Mito's green shawl – so it was what was constricting his head so tightly...  

He uncoiled the fabric slowly – for some reason it was a little bit stuck in his hair – but he was stopped in the process by a powerful pair of arms. He opened his eyes. Everything was red – her hair, her eyes, the sky behind them, the large spot on the shawl.  

  

Her mouth opened and closed, she was probably speaking but he couldn't hear her because of the tinnitus. A moment later she hugged him, tightly, and he rested his head on her shoulder. He was so tired and couldn't remember a thing that had happened after he heard the first gun shot – but she was okay, and he was on his boat, so nothing really serious could have happened, right?  

  

"The back of your head got hit by a metallic object that had flown with the swirling wind," she told him a moment later when he was feeling better. "You collapsed immediately, your body halfway on the boat. I thought you were dead for a second…and many seconds after actually. You were…bleeding so hard." She showed him her shawl, soaked in his blood. "I did what I could. But I didn't even have enough time to drag your body on the boat, and the rope just broke and then we were caught in the storm and I-I"  

  

"You did well." he only said. He was the last person you could hope to comfort someone but he had to say something; not only because she was still shaking and crying but because she had literally saved his life. A bleeding wound on the scalp was deadly if not quickly treated properly. He recalled what she had done earlier to comfort him and so, he patted on her shoulder. He thought a minute about saying _'It_ _wasn't_ _your_ _fault_ _'_ but the context was inappropriate – because it was indeed her fault if Kakuzu was shooting at her-  

  

"I think we need to have a talk." he stated instead, pushing her back off of him. His memories were back at last, especially his little chat with Kakuzu and that very old bottle of Rum.  

  

She sat against the mast and the half broken sail and waited for him to talk, expecting to be lectured for what had happened in the bar this morning. She was frowning, on the defensive, and he didn't like that – it was the attitude of someone who had been caught doing a bad thing and who didn't want to confess.  

  

He sighed, rubbed his now dried wound and turned towards her. "I don't even know where I should start."  

  

She crossed her arms on her chest. As if the situation wasn't complicated enough now the Uzumaki lady was acting like a five year old child. He was fine with it, he had subdued tougher guys, and he knew how to destabilize her from the start.  

  

"Are you really married?"  

  

And bingo. The lady mouth gasped and her eyes went wide. Madara proudly raised an eyebrow and with a very nice feeling of satisfaction running through his veins, he wanted for her answer.  

  

"How…did you find out?"  

  

"The sun mark on your ring finger," he lied. Admitting he had learned the information from Kakuzu and wasn't able to deduce it by himself was out of the question. She mechanically brought her right hand over her left and looked at the mark, defeated – and Madara did too for the first time and found out Kakuzu was right, it was even rather obvious, how could he have missed it? – and then, something else that had felt out of place before made perfectly sense now.  

  

"The man snoring…I thought it was your father; but it was your husband."  

  

She nodded. She couldn't meet his gaze. Not yet.  

  

"Why did you omit that _small_ detail?"  

  

"I…it's just that you wouldn't have possibly understood."  

  

"You lost your first husband, the one you loved, five years ago and you married another one years later, someone you certainly didn't love as much as Hashirama. And now that you've learned your first and only dearly beloved was alive, you thought you could…return to him. Am I close?"  

  

Her usual – and kind of adorable, even if it hurt him a little to admit – pout was back on her face, a sign that she was back to her true self. "It's not that bad..." She simply said, not wanting to nourish his pride any further. "I didn't want to lie to you, you know; everybody on the Islands knows that I've gotten married last year, I guess you are the sole exception. I just…didn't want people outside of Uzushio to know. And when would you have wanted me to tell you anyway?"  

  

"Before you entered his room, when you left of the room, when you were reading Hashirama's letter on the meeting room, when you-"  

  

"Okay okay stop it. Your 'Mr Know-it-all' attitude is kind of annoying you know."  

  

"It's only to counterbalance with your own stupidity."  

  

And then it came, as unexpected as a shoal of dolphins swimming very close to the coast; a tinkling laugh coming from her angelic face. "I am so happy to have you back," she added in her joyful voice, and even without looking he knew she was smiling from ear to ear. "I almost missed your horrible sense of humor."  

  

He didn't waste any time to explain he wasn't humoring her at all and resumed their little talking.  

  

"Why did Kakuzu shoot at you? I know the man, he can be crazy sometimes but he usually doesn't act without being provoked – or if it concerns his money"  

  

"Oh…it's because, they told me about the bottle…You know. That you find Hashirama's letter in his bottle so…"  

  

She took out the letter out of her bag. Madara nearly choked. The letter was inside a...  

  

"No...You didn't…really…" This was unbelievable. She was holding one of Kakuzu's bottles in her hands! How dare she?!  

  

"What does it look like? Of course I stole it. You didn't bring the real bottle I had to take care of this myself. Now everything can go back to normal."  

  

And everything was making sense again. She had flouted the law, she had stolen the great Kakuzu and now her head was certainly printed on every single street of the bloody island, next to his probably, assuming he had rescued her without knowing she was the one to blame. He wouldn't be able to put his feet again on the Akatsuki Island ever again without being shot in the moment.  

At least now he had a very good excuse for not going back and at the same time, to avoid Konan.  

  

When he looked back at Mito she was stroking the dirty bottle on her cheek, her eyes were closed and she was humming; she was day dreaming of Hashirama again. He wondered what he looked like – she was so fond of him that he was inclined to think he was probably very handsome, or at least that he had an irresistible charm.  

  

"What does he look like?" He found himself asking before he could stop his mind. He still wasn't curious about the man himself - of course no - but what intrigued him more was the fantastic effect he had on her.  

  

"So we can talk about Hashirama now?" She looked so happy, just like a kid before opening his birthday's presents.  

  

He eventually surrendered. She talked for almost a whole hour but he wasn't really listening. The more she described him the more precise his mental image of him was and what he saw bothered him.  

  

"It was love at first sight, really. Hashirama is not someone you cannot notice. He has that, I don't know, that magnetism; something that automatically drags your eyes on him. It's like a natural aura, you know. And he is, so damn, handsome. More than you - and don't mistaken me, you are quite alright, you are even more than just quite alright but _youknowwhatImean_ \- but Hashirama he is just...he is different. He is tall, very tall, my head barely reaches his shoulder. He has long, brown hair and kind chestnut eyes. His hands are what I like most about him. They are big and warm, and when he used to hold mine I felt safe, as if nothing could ever happen to me, to us...I was wrong it seems."  

 He was feeling uncomfortable and incredibly hot all of a sudden – and it was for no reason – so he ended their conversation and instead, began to talk about important matters - he had a bad feeling she could go on for hours. Like, for example, what they were really going to do now that both of them were conscious and alive. Even if her undying love for Hashirama was still there it didn't change anything about her situation and Madara didn't really have a choice.  

  

"I understand your aim, but I'm afraid I cannot approve your behavior. You are a married woman."  

  

"But Hashirama is still in danger! My…marital situation doesn't change anything about that. He still needs to be saved."  

  

"Certainly not by a married woman. Who also appears to be also his ex-future-wife. Why don't you hire someone with all the money you have left?"  

  

Her gaze lingered a little too long on his features for his taste and he quickly cursed him for having such a bad idea. He would not fall for it. For her pleading eyes, for her smile, for her laugh, for her clumsiness and her…presence.  

  

"I'm taking you back home."  

  

Mito's cheeriness disappeared instantaneously, and Madara's good mood followed as well. It was all replaced by a heavy silence. Because Mito was incredibly sad and because Madara was…thinking.  

  

First, he had no idea of where they were.

 

And he couldn't blame his sense or the weather for that. It was just that he had never been in that part of the Ocean. That was a pretty bad news for him – and good news for her, inevitably – because it could only mean one thing. I meant they had reached the Lands.  

  

"Mito," he asked her using her name for a change. "Do you still have your map?"  

  

She took it off of her bag and they searched for any clue of where they could possibly be. There were a few small islands, not very far from where they were, but too small to have people living there. One of them was granted with a giant mill on top of a cliff that was marked on Mito's map. After studying it a little bit closer and to Madara's great horror, they realized they were only two hours away from the nearest Land's beach.  

  

Being so close to the Lands felt weird for some reasons. It was as if he had trouble breathing properly.  

  

And, second problem, the sail was broken. It probably occurred during the storm when he was lying unconscious on the flooring of the boat. Mito had been apologizing all day, saying that she hadn't prayed enough but it wasn't as if he could really blame her – who would listen to a priestess complain? Not his Lady Ocean. They couldn't navigate very far with only two paddles and Mito's weak pair of arms.  

  

Yes, Madara was fucked. Because he needed his boat to be repaired and he also had a lady with him and he had no choice but to go to the Lands. At this very moment, Kira came back – from where? He didn't know – with a branch in her beak.  

  

"Oh!" Mito exclaimed, as if she had just seen jewels – or whatever women liked, Madara didn't really know what would usually set her in such a good mood and he didn't care – and turned to him. "It comes from an olive tree."  

  

"A what?"  

  

"An olive tree. You know, the tree they made olive oil from." He hated when she used that voice, as if everybody knew about trees - who cared about trees?  

  

"I don't know if you have noticed, but I practically live on water. I don't care about gardening."  

  

"Oh no, I thought you would know…because of…well, you know."  

  

No he didn't. And from the both of them it was difficult to decide who looked the more perplexed. Mito looked like she thought she had talked too much, and dropped her gaze on her feet again, pretending she was busy with...nothing.  

  

"Never mind." She bent first, looking extremely confused, and the way she was avoiding his gaze again made him feel very uncomfortable. He couldn't let that passed.  

  

"Why should I know about olive oil?"  

  

"It's pretty common, you know, for…cooking stuff."  

  

He glared; she was hiding something and he couldn't stand it. "Do I look like a man who cooks? Mito, look at me, and stop your silly game. We are still in the middle of the Ocean on a broken boat; there is no way you can get out of this without telling me what's really on your mind."  

  

She froze, but eventually she agreed and locked her eyes with his. "It's…it's embarrassing to talk about that stuff openly, you know. Not that I mind, not at all, I don't think this is something you should be ashamed of..."  

  

Was she really getting at this? "What the heck are you talking about?" He had a small idea but preferred to be sure.  

  

"Well, you obviously don't like women…in any kind of way so…you know."  

  

And she did. Madara was surprised, not in a pleasant or unpleasant way honestly. He just didn't think she'd noticed in the short time they have been together.  

  

"Oh. I see what you mean. You think I am sexually attracted to men." He went straightforward, and the huge blush on her face was totally worth it. "I am sorry to disappoint you, but I knew nothing about olive oil. So I suppose it is some kind of lubricant?"  

  

"Please, don't ask me," she said, hiding her face in her hands. "I am so sorry and so embarrassed. If I didn't love Hashirama so much I would have jumped in the water and hope I would have drown so I can never see you again."  

  

"Too bad you still love him that much. I feel so sorry for your actual husband."  

  

She raised her head, her eyes shocked and hurt. Maybe he went too far this time – she sure did well earlier, but it wasn’t as if he really minded her insolence. Because she looked really angry.   

  

"You are a real jerk."  

  

He grinned. "But that jerk is taking you to the Kage Tower so I think you should thank him, instead of calling him a queer."  

  

Mito crawled into a ball and rocked back and forth, murmuring her apologizes again and again, and Madara had to contain his evil laughter deep inside. For once she had been right, he had been a real jerk.  

  

.  

  

  

The sun was at his zenith; Madara had taken off his shirt and was paddling for almost two hours. Mito had just stood on the bow, supposedly scanning the horizon but instead her eyes were glued to Madara's frame. If he hadn't been busy paddling alone for the both of them he would have complained - but it didn't matter because they were finally here. The Lands were finally within easy reach; they could see the stoney beach and the forest behind it - nothing compared to the islands sceneries.  

  

Mito still looked a little bit…off. Sad, melancholic, out of place. She shouldn't be, she was finally where she had ever wanted to be, closer to her true love than she had ever been in five long years. She should be celebrating, jumping, moving in all directions to the point of driving him crazy but no. She was motionless and blankly staring at _his_ muscles. Maybe she was a nympho after all.  

  

"What are you staring at?" He asked her, tired of the silence – it wasn't his usual peaceful silence, it was a shared moment of silence and it was heavy. He couldn't stand it.  

  

"Your biceps. They make me think of Hashirama's." She said, sadly.  

  

He stopped paddling for a moment and gave her a questioning look.   

  

"You look…alike, in a way. You are both very well built and with a sun kissed skin. Even if it's natural for Hashirama. His skin color I mean."  

  

"You sound depressed." It was just barely a statement, not even a question, but it had opened a door of possibilities for Mito to speak and as soon as he saw her mouth opening, Madara regretted his innocent remark. She was about to have the typical existential woman crises just before meeting with someone you haven't seen in a long time.  

  

"What if he had forgotten about me? What if he doesn't love me anymore?" she said out of the blue, and her voice was so cracked and broken, he thought she was going to crumble at his feet once again. Crying so much for a single man…Love was definitely not worth it.  

  

"Maybe you should have thought about that before taking me in hostage on my own boat."  

  

"I am…such a stupid, foolish, birdbrained girl." And she began to cry again. Women and their emotional stability…he would never get used to it.  

  

But to be honest with himself Madara hadn't been in contact with a lot of women, and  Mito was the first one he had…tolerate for so long - Konan and the Akatsuki's women in general didn't count. There had only been one single important woman in his life and it had been his mother, and she had always been special. Surprisingly he found out that her tears made him sad, that her laughs made his heart lighter, and that he wanted to be able to do something for her. If the old granny had been here with them she would have said something in the line of ' _maybe_ _you_ _care_ ', and even if she wasn't physically there he could still imagine her speech in his head and for one, unique moment Madara chose not to be a jerk. In his own way.  

  

"I had sex with a man, once." he said, resting the paddle on the floor and sitting next to her. The sobs stopped all of a sudden – as expected – and when he was sure she wasn't going to burst into tears again he continued. "It was actually my very first time. I don't remember it very well but it was on a boat with a completely stranger, and it was incredible." It was one of his most guarded secret - not that he had sex on a boat with a stranger, but that he had loved it from hair to toes - and he hoped this would be enough to enlighten her mood - don't ask him why, he just got the feeling woman of a certain age liked that kind of stuff.  

  

She sniffed but she was smiling lightly now. Her eyes were shining with something else than tears and Madara had never felt prouder of himself since he had the chance to take care of Izuna. "I knew you liked men more. You didn't even check on me once since we've known each other."  

  

He couldn't blame her for being that presumptuous about her physique – she was a breathtaking lady and no one could object on that matter – or about her supposed knowledge of his sexuality, after all her statement was indeed very true. He was absolutely not physically interested in her, or in other women, or in any other man that he'd come across his life but the man on the boat. He had reached the sad conclusion that, loneliness would be his only true friend, and that the Ocean would be his bride, in sickness and in health until death do us apart.  

  

"It's a shame you don't remember his name," she said, before frowning and holding her belly into her arms – she looked in pain, a cramp maybe? "Are we going to reach the solid ground any time soon?" she asked him rather urgently.  

  

"In a couple of minutes, probably. Why? You okay?"  

  

"Yes. Your story made me laugh too much, my abdomen couldn't handle it," she replied with a smirk on her face.  

  

He smirked back at her for no reason. "Look who has a bad sense of humor now."  

  

"What are you talking about? That was hilarious."  

  

Their journey had reached its end. The Lands were right in front of them. Kira left the boat first, flying and landing on a rock in front of a muddy path. Madara came shortly after, cursing when his bare foot walked on a sharp peddle. He turned back and grabbed his shoes that had stayed on the boat – he had to find a place to hold in on the Lands before the next storm took it away – and Mito was still standing in the end of it. He tried to call her, to reach her but he soon found out she was still in pain and rather busy. She was still holding her belly and…watching inside her pants?  

  

What kind of sophisticated lady would do that in public?  

  

"Hey." He called her out and she quickly ended whatever she was doing, walking towards him and taking his hand. He helped her getting on the ground and took her bag on his shoulder. She took her shawl out, covertly, probably thinking he wouldn't notice. He frowned.  

  

She was being secretive again, but the serious and concerned look on her face – she was faintly trying to hide it from him and desperately failing. Her expression told him it was something big, something else she could have omitted again, and afterthought Madara realized he didn't know Mito that much after all. She had been able to lie to him, more than once, and behind that cheerful and innocent attitude he knew she kept something darker within her heart, something she didn't want anyone to find – he had known this the moment he saw her looking so sadly at the Uzushio Island, and now everything made sense because she was leaving her home, her father and husband; she was running away and maybe she didn't have any intention to come back.  

  

She surely would not tell him if he asked straight so, he'd had to find out on his own.  

  

It didn't take long. Mito wasn't very good at hiding things. She had scattered a lot of small hints during their trip, and this one was so big even for someone like Madara that he had to stop walking to actually take the proper time to understand what he'd just figured out.  

  

…How could she?  

  

How _dare_ she?  

  

Mito was still lightly scrubbing her crotch with the immaculate part of her shawl lightly when she bumped into Madara's back.  

  

"You have never left the Uzushio Island, right?" he asked her, all of a sudden, realizing his numerous mistakes.  

  

"Yes. I'm sorry I lied yesterday, I just really needed you to take me here."  

  

"If you have never been on a boat then how did you know you had seasickness the first place?"  

  

She looked puzzled, but not horrified. She hadn't understood she had been caught yet.  

  

"Kakuzu told me he served you his best bottle. How did you find his whisky?" He pressed her again, not letting go of his pray.  

  

"It was…good. But what's going on with you all of a sudden? You look…strange."  

  

"Liar," he retorted bitterly. "You didn't touch your drink. Konan told me. And it was Rum, not whiskey - whiskey is disgusting."  

  

"You went to sleep before us, you can't possibly know what I had drunk that night." The conversation was becoming heated between them and the tension they were feeling had nothing to do with the previous one, when they were still sailing on the Ocean.  

  

"Someone tried to kill you. You barely escaped a violent storm. Your…organism must have felt so much stress in a short amount of time. And now, you have stomach ache and you're checking your leaks."  

  

"Madara I am sorry I have no idea of what you're-"  

  

"You throw up every morning; you stubbornly refused to drink very good and free alcohol…" He cut her off, and there it was. Her beautiful feature, falling apart after that ugly discovery. She looked as if she had just seen a ghost and Madara thought that she and her father had a lot in common.  

  

"I still can't believe this…you are pregnant."  

  

He didn't know how much time they have spent, standing like complete idiots, looking blankly in each other's eyes without having the courage to make a move. Too scared that everything they had built would shatter if one of them happened to breathe a little bit too loud. They could barely move a single muscle. He had never been this much on edge since…since…  

  

Since those times when they were still at war. He could still pictured it. His enemy was right in front on him, his pistol aimed at him and he was doing the same, and both of them were too focused to move, too intense to hear a third person coming from behind. Madara could only hear the gunshot and then, his enemy was dead at his feet, his brother's fuming pistol firming on his hand.  

  

But Izuna wasn't there to cover his back anymore. And fortunately, war was over. There wouldn't be any more innocent deaths. Except of course, if Mito had a miscarriage because of her turbulent trip.  

  

"I…" She started, but couldn't find her words; and really there weren't any words that could get her out of here, because what she had done was simply unforgivable.  

  

"No. Shut up. You are…not just stupid or foolish, you are…completely silly. Reckless and…maybe even evil, in a way. Do you even realize you aren't alone anymore? You're not just a lady, or a married woman – I don't care if you cheat on your husband I really don't, I don't have enough moral to lecture you on that matter – you are a _mot_ _her_. Can you…did you understand that? All your responsibilities?"  

  

She dropped her gaze, looking at her feet. She was so stunned that she had forgotten how to cry.  

  

"I swear…what have I done? Not only did I kidnap a young lady, but she had to be married and fucking pregnant!"  

  

"You have nothing to be-"  

  

"Of course I have!" he shouted, totally out of himself. "Because you're not just yourself, a single and mere human beings; you are much more than that. You are a promise, you are a whole _family_ on your own now, and I can't destroy that. I don't want to be part of that."  

  

"Madara, I am truly sorry."  

  

"No you aren't. If you were really sorry you wouldn't have left the future father before the sunset without a word. You are anything but sorry. You are happy, happy that you have been able to manipulate me and to reach your goal. Go find Hashirama now. I am curious of how he would react. Was that the reason why you were so sad earlier? Or did you also plan on screwing him to proclaim that the child is his?"  

  

"I am so, so sorry!" There was a short pause, and both of them could contemplate now the shattered pieces of their newborn friendship spread on the shingle. "I didn't want to deceive you so much. I feel so ashamed." She breathed. Her words were sincere but the damages were too severe.  

  

"You are the exact reminder I needed to remember that men, and women, are the very last thing I can trust."  

  

From the two of them Madara was the only fool. He had truly underestimated her and he was the only one to be blamed. Kakuzu had tried to warn him and he hadn't taken his thoughts seriously. Instead, he had helped a thief, who had robbed his only friend left – or what could possibly be the closest thing he had to a friend. He began to laugh, like a sad clown. He was only a man after all. He couldn't be trust either. He wasn't any better than anyone else. He had failed to save his brother, he didn't have the courage to leave his comfort zone and refused to join his family, he was hiding from Konan, from his own responsibilities and he was blaming a young lady who was only trying to find her love back.  

  

"No man or woman should ever be trusted." he said bitterly, before walking toward Kira and the muddy path. She needed a doctor, obviously, and he needed someone to repair his sail. Through fate they would have to share the road together a while longer until they found a town, and they still needed each other. He had no money and she was too weak to walk alone.  

  

"I trust Hashirama."   

  

For the first time today her voice was firm and full of confidence. Her back was straight, her shoulders were right and she was looking at him in the eyes. It was like a magic spell. The simple mention of his name had managed to transform her into a kind of killing machine and now she was walking towards him as if they had never had that terrible conversation. He couldn't help but be jealous, where did all that strength come from?  

  

"Okay, no more lies. Yes I am married, and I am also two moons pregnant. Yes, my husband doesn't know about it yet. But he knows where I am, and I had explained him that I had a vision about Hashirama and that he needs to be saved. I still love Hashirama, but my ultimate goal is to bring him back alive, not to marry him in order to escape from my husband, that I love deeply no matter what you can be thinking about me." She sighed heavily, letting the weight of her speech leaving her shoulders. "Now, admit that you are really gay, and we're even."  

  

She grabbed his arm and forced them into a quick pace, not giving him the time to reply – or to rant, how dare she?! _How_ _dare_ _she_?! – Kira was flying above their head, never letting them out of her sight. They were walking, where exactly he had no idea; but Lands were gifted with roads whereas the Ocean was a giant maze. Finding a city shouldn't be that hard as long as they followed the muddy path.  

  

His mother used to say that, the very first impression you've had about a person was probably the right one. And Madara had been right about Mito.  

  

The lady had an incredible pair of balls.  

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for Madara POV!  
> Next part will be called 'The Lady' and as you have guessed, it will be Mito's POV. Each part will now tell the backstory of every characters and continues the story.  
> I hope you liked it so far because I really enjoyed writing it and rediscovering it. Even if the fandom is kinda dead...but that's not a problem it won't stop me!  
> See ya soon sailors!


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